


For the Love of My Master

by Vermilion_Sunrise



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Dark, Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Alternate Universe - Voldemort Wins, Angst, Captured, Dark, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Scheming, Sex, sevmione - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-05
Updated: 2018-09-26
Packaged: 2019-05-18 14:57:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 33,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14854940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vermilion_Sunrise/pseuds/Vermilion_Sunrise
Summary: The Death Eaters have won and London spirals into what can only be described as a nuclear winter. Out of options and the last of the Golden Trio to still be alive, Hermione Granger devises a plan to escape London and meet up with Professor McGonagall in Scotland. Hoping to reach this last bastion of freedom before it is too late, Hermione is captured by Severus Snape.





	1. Her Only Recourse

It had been two years since the fall of the Order and the rise of the Dark Lord. Muggle London was covered with a darkness and white haze that resembled the aftermath of a nuclear fallout. The streets were silent, the sky pitch black as Hermione Granger made her way to a burned out building on a corner of no particular interest to anybody. She pulled her rag of a shawl further over her head as she looked over her shoulder. No matter how long it had been she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was being followed, that somebody would do her ill. In this new world there were many opportunists. Many who would easily kill in order to gain food, favor or any other thing that might make their miserable lives more comfortable. She shivered at the thought and continued on her way. This had not been what they had intended, what they had fought so hard for. Hermione could still see the swinging bodies of her most loved comrades hang in Trafalgar Square, as she watched from the sewers. Harry, Ron, Professor Dumbledore, all had been hanged on a cold and stormy day in November. All had swung in the rain for days until some vigilante had had the guts to cut them down. He was also executed for his troubles, but he would forever be a hero to Hermione.

 

The Dark Lord’s rule was harsh and with that came rules and regulations, but also a lawlessness that was unfathomable. Hermione treaded lightly, knowing she was out after hours. The curfew imposed by the Death Eaters would see no one out after 11pm, now at 3 am she would be seriously punished for her crimes. Merlin forbid they find out her true identity. She had done well to live off the kindness of strangers and rely on her own wits. The streets were unkind and she had seen many things in the last two years, none of which had been the world she had previously inhabited. Sometimes she waited to be awoken from this nightmare, other times she wished death upon herself. In a world where the strong preyed upon the weak, where friends fought against friends and where Muggles and Wizarding Folk alike were hauled off to working camps without notice, Hermione knew she needed to flee if she wanted to live. It was this need to flee that brought her to this burned out factory in the heart of London. While London and the surrounding areas had been taken, there were parts of the UK that were still ‘free zones’, or so she heard. She knew that Professor McGonagall had retreated to her castle in Scotland to fight the Dark Lord. From the last news she had been given, she was still alive and well - fighting the Dark Lord with all the ferociousness of a highlander. Hermione hoped she could make it there. Hoped she could leave this nightmare far behind her. The road was treacherous but better than trying her luck in London, which was overrun with Voldemort’s sick followers.

 

Hermione navigated the twists and turns of the building, remembering exactly what her contact had told her. Her wand at the ready she turned and pointed at any sound that was out of place or possibly human or wizard. You could not count on most people now, no matter their true origins. It would be silly to be so close to freedom and squander it on some rouge you happened to encounter on your way. Double checking she was in the right place, she hid herself in a dark corner with a blown out window, which would afford her an easy exit. It was documents she was after, a new identity to be more exact. There was not much her status as part of the Golden Trio would get her now, but this was the last favor she would ask. So she waited in the cold and dark of a burned out building for her contact to arrive. It was particularly cold this night, so she pulled her rags closer to her body, her bare feet tucked under her as best she could.

 

Her eyes had adjusted to the darkness and she could detect some movement from the corridor she had just come through. Cautious she stayed in place, waiting for the person coming her way to show themselves as friend or foe. A young woman made her way, wand at the ready, closer to where Hermione lay in wait. Her hair cascaded over her shoulders and her complexion, what she could see of it in the poor light anyway, would have said she was well fed and in want of nothing. Hermione sighed in relief. It was rather unlikely that this girl would come to steal the last of her possessions and kill her. She stepped out of the shadows carefully, sure to keep her wand at her side. The young woman paused a moment, holding her wand with a slight ‘lumus’ charm. There was a moment where they both looked at one another in silence, assessing whether it was okay to continue with their clandestine meeting. Finally the young woman came closer and pulled some folded documents from beneath her robes.

 

“Are you Hermione Granger?” she asked with slight apprehension. Hermione couldn’t blame her, she knew years of hiding from the authorities had taken its toll on both her appearance and her emotions.

 

“Yes.” Was all Hermione could muster. Not having the strength or the will to say more than that.

 

“Here is what you need then.” The young woman handed her the documents. Hermione used the light of the woman’s wand to read through them. They were identity papers. A photo of a girl in her age, somewhat similar looking, half blood wizard, schooling outside of London.  Hermione took her time to look through them, she needed to be sure she could pass for this girl, that she could really be her if questions were asked.

 

The young woman broke the silence, “What do you think?” She asked. “They aren't foraged, that’s already something.” Hermione looked up at her with only half interest as she continued to examine the documents. The woman was right, they were certainly not foraged, they were very very real.  Forged documents would get her killed, real documents gave her a high chance of passing through the city’s borders. That could only mean one thing.

 

“Is she dead?” Her question was clear and concise.

 

“Yes.” The young woman breathed.

 

“Who was she to you?” Hermione had no more energy to be diplomatic, she needed to know if she could actually use this.

 

The young woman stammered, “My sister. She was my sister.” Hermione could see the hurt in her eyes. “We cremated her. Nobody knows.” The woman paused, “We have family outside of London, that should be enough to get you through.”

 

Hermione nodded and reached for the wad of rations she had in her pocket. She handed them to the woman for payment. These documents would do to get her past the guards.

 

The young woman smiled, “Oh thank you!” She was more than pleased to have the ration cards. Then she frowned slightly, “Perhaps you should cut your hair?”

 

Hermione hadn’t considered this as she looked down at the picture in the documents she held in her hand. She was the same age as Hermione, had gone to a different school but yes her hair was straight. And now that she looked closer the nose was a bit different too. She simply nodded to the young woman, unable to smile. “Please go. I don’t want you to get caught.” Was all she could say for the lady’s troubles.

 

She shook her head in agreement and placed her hand on Hermione’s bony shoulder, “Good luck.” Then she vanished into the darkness.

 

Hermione breathed a sigh of relief. She had become a loner in the last years and did not enjoy the company of others. Having ties meant it hurt more when people died, or it meant they met an untimely death because she had people looking for her. It suited her just fine to keep to herself. This, however, had been necessary. She turned to a cracked piece of mirror that happened to be lying the bowels of this building. It had been a long time since she had seen herself in a mirror and it was shocking what she saw. Hermione Granger was a shell of her former self. She’d lost easily 45 lbs leaving her malnourished and almost skin and bone. The lack of nutrition had taken its toll on her skin and gums, scurvy had set in making her look sicker than she was. Though she couldn’t be sure, nothing in her body had really functioned well in the last six months, her body was giving out slowly. This was her last attempt at survival.

 

The woman had been right though, her last bastion of who she was, her last recognizable feature, needed to go. Curly hair might give her away and she couldn’t risk it, not now, not when she had come so far and waited so long. She grabbed the sliver of mirror in her right hand, causing blood to form on her fingers, and grabbed a bunch of her hair with her left. It was with great sorrow that she cut the remaining curly locks she had. Ripping them from her head with force, they were the last things she had that reminded her of herself. They had kept her grounded in who she was, even after all of these horrible events and now, now she needed to be somebody else. She needed to forget she was Hermione Granger and become Erica Simmons. She watched her hair fall gracefully to the ground of this burnt out and degrading old building as if it were a dream. She felt her head to make sure she had gotten rid of every last curl and every last bit of hair she possessed. The looked at the mirror again. Her nose was off...she used her wand and cast a very light glamour it change it. ‘ _Yeah.  That will do.'_ Convinced of her success, Hermione Granger curled up in a corner to review the documents. She was so excited she couldn’t sleep, too concerned she would mess up to rest.  She needed to be perfect, and she only had a few hours to practice.

 

* * *

 

 

It was 8 am sharp when Hermione arrived at the border crossing. It was obvious from the droves of people lined up in the cold, that many had broken curfew to get there early. She was somewhat surprised to see that there were almost as many wanting to come into the city as leave. Voldemort’s reign had attracted all sorts of degenerates and bad individuals set on the exploitation of others. The city had progressively gotten worse instead of better, and that was why you needed to have your documents in order. Those with family outside of London were often granted leave and able to join with them outside of the city. With so many mouths to feed and so little food, it made sense to let those who could leave and wanted to leave go. Though there were many who were unable to leave due to their blood status, allegiances, name, or because the notoriously disgusting border guards didn’t feel it necessary to allow them to leave. In those instances and often for reasons undisclosed, they were thrown into labor camps or rehabilitation camps. Hermione shuddered even thinking about them, they were hideous places - where witches and wizards would be made to battle for the amusements of the guards. Where they were made to murder others, where they worked until the died. Hermione had done her best to avoid these places and it was a wonder she had, with the squads of Death Eaters roaming the streets, looking for people like her. Many of her friends had not lasted long...she was the last of them now that she thought about it.

 

She pulled her dark hood over her bald head to both keep warm and to cover her face. She didn’t want to stick out unnecessarily as she chose a line to stand in. Hermione had done much to train her breathing so as not to seem nervous, even though her insides were churning. A fight had broken out in another line across the way, something about papers being damaged by somebody and now there was blood. Neither one of them would exit the city after that, now they were being dragged off to the camps. She didn’t dare stare too long at the commotion, not drawing attention to herself was key in this moment and she kept repeating it to herself like a mantra. She saw a few women look at her and take a step back, so bad must have been the smell rolling off her or the fear of infection that they turned their noses up and stayed a good distance from her. ‘ _Good,’_ she thought, ‘ _just stay away from me.’_

 

The crossing was getting nearer and Hermione pulled her rags closer around her body subconsciously. Her documents were touching her body, she could feel them rubbing her skin, a reminder that she was there and she was alive. It was harder than expected to fight the rising joy and excitement in her chest, she could see her goal, she could see the space beyond London for the first time in years and she almost couldn’t contain her shaking. ‘ _Just a little longer.’_ She reminded herself.

 

Her hopes would soon be dashed, as a group of young and upcoming Death Eaters approached her. Hermione looked at the floor but they had already had her in their sights. She quivered when the leader of the pack gripped her by the shoulder and spun her to face him, though it was unclear if she was scared, nervous or just depleted of nutrients.

 

“Well well what do we have here?” the leader said eyeing Hermione in an attempt to determine how much she would squirm under his scrutiny.

 

“Some sad excuse for a boy.” The dark haired one said.

 

“Nah, I think she’s a girl.” Said another that Hermione couldn’t quite see. She was surrounded and they wouldn’t leave until they got what they wanted from her.

 

They poked her around a bit and pushed until her hood fell from her head, revealing her baldness. She hoped it would be enough to deter them from taking their bullying further. Instead it incited them more.

 

“Well I’d say that’s the ugliest thing I’ve ever seen.” The dark haired one spat, pushing her around and getting a yelp from her for his troubles.

 

“I bet you’d fuck her anyways.” Said the unseen Death Eater.

 

That was enough. Hermione turned and walked as briskly as she could away from the growing crowd of onlookers. Her freedom was short lived though, as hands pulled her back to where she had come from. These hands, there were more of them now, were grabbing at her….clawing at her. Her scarf came off, exposing her newly shaven head to the cold winter morning. She turned, in a vain attempt to grab it back. Her rags of clothing came soon after that, and she began to wonder to herself was would be better? ‘ _Let them have their way just so I can pick myself up and leave?’_

 

It was soon clear they had no intention of letting her go through the border after that, as the blond one grabbed her identification papers, scattering them to the wind. Hermione drew her wand, but it was knocked from her hand. Her naked body was pushed to the ground, she could feel the cold gravel digging into her thin, almost skeletal frame. She was fighting now, pushing back with what little strength she had. One of the Death Eaters moved his hand too close to her mouth and she bit him as hard as she could, drawing blood. That was when he punched her. Her eyes exploded with colors of red and orange at the impact.

 

“No, no!” She was screaming, loud enough for the entire crossing to hear her. Of course nobody came to her aid, her screams were met with more laughter and more jeering from the ever growing crowd. They were holding her down now, her face was bleeding and her body was aching. The blond one was opening his trousers now and Hermione shook with fear and anger. ‘ _I’m going to die here.’_ She said to herself. ‘ _I’m going to die here and nobody will be the wiser.’_

 

It was then that a booming voice broke the commotion. She hadn’t even heard what the voice had said, only that it had stopped everything dead in its tracks. Her attackers were all looking to her left, even the blond one was frozen, his trousers around his knees.

 

“I said, ‘What is the meaning of this?’" Came the loud baritone voice of her ex-potions Professor, Severus Snape. She didn’t quite know what to think, on the one hand he had stopped the absolute terror she was experiencing, on the other he was the ultimate betrayer and had aided in finding and killing her friends. Severus threw her a quick glance as he walked his way casually into the crowd of miscreants, clearly he was a home in such company. Hermione turned her head away on the chance that he might recognize her - she was still wanted by Voldemort.

 

The young Death Eaters were stunned into silence, one actually started shaking in fear of the man Hermione had known well years before. He was a General in Voldemort’s army now, responsible for the Labor and Resocialization Camps that had cropped up in the countryside after the Dark Lord took power. He had more blood on his hands than Hermione cared to think about and more power than almost any other Death Eater, save Voldemort. He hadn’t changed at all since she’d seen him last, his dark eyes roaming the audience his robes flowing behind him effortlessly. She began to shiver then, it was a December morning and horrendously cold.

 

Severus looked at the shotty lot of young Death Eaters around him, none of them were offering up anything. He arched his eyebrow in the characteristic way that he often did and continued to milk the silence as he removed his traveling cloak. He breathed in deep, “Nobody? Not one single soul can tell me what’s going on here?”

 

“We were, we were just…” one of the young men started, but then thought better of it has Snape turned his full attention to the boy.

 

“Wormtail, pack the girl up in this and take her to my carriage. Stay outside of the carriage until I tell you otherwise.” The tone in his voice was ominous, as if nothing could be said to stop what Severus Snape was about to set in motion. His ugly, fat servant of a man scuttled over to Hermione bringing her his Master’s cloak. He dropped the cloak on top of her, so she could at least cover some of her nakedness before she got up. Unsteady and shaking from fear, adrenaline and anger, Hermione wrapped the thick woolen travel cloak around her body and struggled with the weight of it. Gaining her footing, she turned her face toward her old professor and their eyes met briefly. As usual his expression was impassive and impossible to read. She could not find the will to smile or say anything, she simply nodded in his direction and allowed herself to be escorted by Wormtail away from the mess. There was this fleeting moment that made her want to stop and turn back, to see what would happen to her attackers. But something stopped her, fearing she would turn into a pillar of salt or worse, she kept her gaze firmly fixed ahead. Not even the horrific screaming of the young men who had hurt her, nor the sound of blood and body parts scattering across the cement plaza would turn her head now.

 

Wormtail opened the door of a carriage that was parked a fair bit away from where Severus had found her. Steadying herself on the stair, she used what was left of the strength she had and pulled herself inside, almost too weak to make it. Once inside she took stock of her surroundings. The carriage was done in deep purple velvet, the seats were plush, the windows and the inside had a nice dark wood and there was a bowl of fruit on a small table. The carriage was opulent and comfortable, Hermione pulled the travel cloak around her tighter feeling out of place there. She had just escaped one horror to be brought to another, though mentally she was too tired to truly understand the repercussions of what had just happened, she was too busy eyeing the fruit on the table near her. Hermione hadn’t eaten in several days. Her mouth was ablaze, she was salivating uncontrollably. Against her better judgement she grabbed an orange and began to devour it, peel and all. She held it in two hands as if to hold it with one would give it the opportunity to escape her. She bit and chewed and swallowed almost in one go, she was so desperate for food, for nourishment, for anything. She had finished two and was on her third orange when the carriage door opened and Severus Snape entered. Hermione stopped mid bite, her eyes wide and focused on him, juice dripping from her mouth not sure what to do.

 

Severus closed the door behind him and sat across from the girl, who had not taken her eyes of him since he had entered the carriage. He suppressed a smile at her nervousness and complete lack of shame to take his food, she was like a wild animal with survival at the top of her list. Severus crossed his legs and settled into his seat giving the driver the signal to go. They sat in silence for a while, she had continued eating, keeping her head down, and he made a concerted effort not to move or speak. To move too quickly would be to scare the girl more than she already was, to speak too soon would make her too uncomfortable to respond. So there he sat there, observing her, trying to figure out what had drawn him to her aid.

 

It was not a normal thing for Severus to intervene in what the ‘foot soldiers’ were doing, he had other issues to attend to and other things that were of much greater importance. Though as he walked through to do the border inspection this morning, unannounced, and had come upon the commotion it had been _Her_ voice. It was clearly not her screaming, but the voice that was doing the screaming that made him drop everything and turn his attention to what was happening. _‘This girl. How could this scrawny, sick naked girl sound so much like ‘Her’? It was ‘Her’ voice I heard, ‘Her’ screams for help. ‘Her’ beautiful sounds.’_  

 

Severus studied the almost skeletal mass in front of him, trying to see what she would have in common with the one he sought. _‘The eyes perhaps?’_

 

Confident she wouldn’t jump out the window or scratch up the walls, Severus pulled out her paperwork he had collected from the site and opened it, careful not to startle her. Her eyes immediately flashed toward the documents he pulled from his breast pocket. Not paying her any mind he removed some small reading glasses from his other breast pocket and began to read her identification documents. It could have been any girl there sitting in front of him, the difference between the smiling, fresh, well-fed girl in the picture and the dirty, flea infested bald one were so great. _‘Erica Simmons.’_ Severus read to himself. This was not the one he was looking for, though she would not be so stupid as to be traveling with her actual documentation on her.

 

He eyed his stray once more, trying to make heads or tails of her true identity. ‘ _They would be the same age though.’_ He mused on this point while reading down a bit further. She had attended a wizarding school outside of London, her parents were both half-blood, which would make her more than half in some ways.

 

“So tell me Miss Simmons, what was your favorite subject in school?” he asked as if they were sitting in a classroom interview.

 

Hermione looked up at him, knowing he was not one to make polite conversation. “Charms sir. Charms and Arithmancy. I wasn’t always the best student in them but I enjoyed them all the same.” Erica’s grades had been nowhere near her own, so she chose the subjects she knew the most about not necessarily the ones Erica did the best in, should Snape attempt to press her deeper.

 

“What about Potions?” He asked very casually, waiting to see how the girl would react.

 

Hermione grinned to herself, knowing the girl’s academic history well. “Well I had two left hands in Potions sir. I didn’t have such a steady hand I suppose.” Hermione again drew his travel cloak around her closely, as if it would shield her from any further questions.

 

Severus pondered her answers for a moment. They all fit, that wasn’t the issue. There were two burning questions that stood out to him. _‘Why would a girl in such a poor state have papers that were almost pristine? One would think she carried them around with her everywhere - but she clearly had not.’_  He pondered this a bit, though it wasn’t as important as his next question. ‘ _Will she be able to help me? Is she strong enough to do what I need her to do when the time is right?”_ He needed someone he could trust without question, someone loyal to him and only him.

 

His gaze was heavy and Hermione felt almost crushed by the weight. Her cheeks burned, wondering if she had answered something wrong or did something that would make him react to her negatively. She told herself to control her breathing, panicking would not do her any good here.

She flinched as he moved his hands inside his robes, his movements were crisp and effortless. After a bit of digging he produced her wand. “I believe this belongs to you.” It wasn’t until he pulled the wand from his robes and held it in front of him did he really see what it was made out of. ‘ _Vine Wood, like hers.'_ He turned his gaze again to the young woman in front of him, analyzing her face for the third time that day.

 

Hermione took the wand gently from his hands and brought it close to her. Something was going on in his mind, she could see that. The way he was looking at her, the expression on his often unreadable face. She decided to look out the window and pretend like nothing was happening, with the hopes that he would ignore whatever it was that had made him speechless. She knew she was a decrepit sorry excuse for a witch, knew that most people would stare at her, but none were Severus Snape. None held the power and influence that he did, none were her sworn enemy.

 

The landscape had slowly changed from the grey destruction of what had been Muggle London, to the green and almost untouched countryside that had been secured by the Dark Lord. It was a small perimeter that had expanded around the city, though some would call it beautiful Hermione knew better. This was where the camps were, where they kept dissidents and Muggles alike. These camps were what her carriage companion was responsible for, he was responsible for the death and suffering of many. She was in such a weird place - she should be thankful to him for saving her from torture and death, yet she felt nothing. It didn’t erase how he stood there motionless and expressionless as the lives of her friends were snuffed out. It didn’t change how he had hunted down those loyal to the order and had them killed. She hoped that if he was taking her to one of his ‘camps’ that her death was swift. If there was one thing she would beg for it would have been that. Escaping London to go to the north had been her last recourse, her last chance to flee the Dark Lord and fight against him. However now, now she could only wish that he was marching her right to the firing squad.

 

It was then that they entered a huge gate that went through the lawn of a rather large and beautiful castle. ‘ _This isn’t a camp.’_ she thought to herself. She had heard stories, and none of them were like this. Beautiful trees lined the small road as they made their way to the front entrance. Hermione couldn’t help but close her eyes and let the smells and sounds of peace roll over her. The air was slightly damp and the fog was still thick, it felt like freedom, though she knew it could not be. The closer they came to the castle the more she could see what was waiting there for them. Several people in servant’s uniforms waited outside, smiling to see the carriage returning. She found it odd that people would be smiling for his return, unsure as to what it meant. There were a few butlers, some maids and a rather plump woman standing out of the line they had formed, beaming with a grin almost as huge has her rounded belly.

 

The carriage came to a halt and Severus opened the door almost immediately. She could hear the slight squishing noise his shoe made when it hit the damp earth. “Oh Master Snape, it’s so lovely to have you back at home.” The rotund woman beamed as she hugged Snape, and to Hermione’s surprise, he hugged her back. Like two old friends who had not seen one another in many years, it was odd - Snape with feelings.

 

“It’s been such a long time Sir, I….” It was then that the jolly witch noticed Hermione move inside the carriage. “...and what is this?” She moved past Severus toward the carriage. “Oh why you poor little thing!” The old matrion scooped Hermione out of the carriage and supported her weight as she got out, still gripping Severus’ cloak tightly about her. “You look like you’ve been chewed up and spit out by a troll.” She remarked with a jolly laugh, her eyes caring and motherly.

 

“Maddie, please look after the girl and have her cleaned, clothed, fed and brought to me when you are done.” Severus wasn’t in the business of bringing home strays and was glad to see his head of the house taking the girl under her wing.

 

‘ _She needs to be comfortable and safe here, then we can see.’_

 

As Maddie fussed over Hermione and walked her toward the castle, she couldn’t help but look back at Severus Snape, Master of the House, her savior and her destroyer. He was watching them intently, holding them in his dark black eyes. He was drilling a hole through her and she didn’t know why. She turned her head back toward the castle and wondered what her fate would be, but knew she had to resign herself, that this was now her only recourse.


	2. A Chambermaid, A Secretary, A Friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione is thrust back amongst the living and an odd arrangement is struck between her and Severus Snape.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy!!

**Chapter 2: A Chambermaid, A Secretary, A Friend**

 

Surreal could not even begin to describe how Hermione felt about the events that had taken place over the last several hours. Her torment at the hands of the young punks at the border of London could have been a dream, her brain preparing her for the harsh possibilities that may befall her. It could have been her subconscious, making sure she was playing out all options in her mind so that she could react better under duress. It could have been a nightmare, her more cautious self teaching her a lesson, warning her not try her luck and keep her miserable life in the shadows of a sick society. The last two years of her life could have been any of the above, Hermione had prayed everyday for that to be the case, but those prayers had never been answered. 

 

Instead her rebirth into humanity had been anything other than what she had prayed for. Her hope had been to feel the moist green grass of Scotland between her toes. She had wanted to feel the light breeze of the sea on her face and see the great castle that Professor McGonagall called home stand before her and cry. Hermione had wanted to just fall to the grass, hug the earth and cry for all the things that had happened to her, to ‘them’. Letting it all go, her body heaving, her hands trembling and her heart filling with the love and hope it so desperately needed. The joy she truly would have felt to let her feelings out, to feel the arms of her friends around her. She desperately wanted to leave behind the scared, weak and primitive animal she had become and go back to being...human.

 

Severus Snape however had seen to it personally to crush her dream, as he had her friends in what seemed like a lifetime ago. Hermione’s rebirth into this world would be one of confusion and pain, it would be one she would not easily forget. This was foremost in her mind as Maddie lead her through the large estate house on the edge of forest. This walk through the bustling house began what was a full scale attack on Hermione that started with the senses. 

 

Hermione wandered through the house at Maddie’s side, almost folded into the robes of the older, rotund woman and couldn’t believe what she saw. Her feelings had nothing to do with the opulence of the house, the dark wood that lined the walls, the thick carpets she felt between her bare dirty toes or the paintings of the known criminals and genocidal maniacs who called themselves Death Eaters that lined the walls. What grabbed her most of all and burned itself into her memory was the mass of maids, servants and house workers smiling and carrying on. They were living their lives in the service of a maniac and yet, they smiled, they were fat and they were healthy. Hermione couldn’t remember the last time she had seen people like this, untouched by the war and existing as if it didn’t impact them. It was like taking a trip into a sick time machine that made her both curious and uncomfortable. It sickened her but at the same time filled a longing that she had had for since the demise of law and order in the wizarding world, a longing for a sense of normalcy. 

 

They made their way through the busy house, through the corridors and down the back stairs through the servant’s halls. Hermione jumped at every movement, every chuckle and every footstep. It had never dawned on her how frightened she was of life. Being weary of sounds had kept her alive all these years, had helped her avoid deadly or otherwise harmful situations. The clicking of heels on the floor made her head turn, the closing of doors made her tremble, the loud laughter of normal people made her grip Maddie’s robes tighter, almost tripping the matron. Her mind could not fully comprehend how wild she had truly become, how much she didn’t fit into this place, or any place for that matter. She wanted to go back, she needed to be alone, hiding and safe somewhere cold and miserable where no one could find her.

 

Instead Maddie took them through the kitchen and toward the back of the house. The smells of cooking meat, of spices made Hermione salivate uncontrollably. She had not eaten in a very long time, she had given up what she could have eaten for her border papers and with that had effectively put her on the road to starvation. She had always been able to eek out a meager existence, but the last weeks had been particularly harsh. Gently a hand pushed her along, clearly she had been staring too long at the chef preparing a large bird for the evening dinner. Hermione’s stomach ached, she knew she couldn’t eat much even if she tried. Her body convulsed slightly, showing her she was still alive. Maddie sat her down on a small stool in a room that was clearly used to spray off dogs and clothes after hunting trips. It was a small, cold room with tile from floor to ceiling, damp with the smell of wet earth - clean and pure. There was a hose in the corner and mud on the floor. The only light that entered the room was from the open door facing the back of the house.  The cold air whirled in, making Hermione clutch Snape’s cloak closer around her body.

 

Pulling a small tub from an adjoining room Maddie placed it in the middle of the room. With a gentle whisper and a few rounds of her wand it filled with warm steaming water. Satisfied that the temperature was correct, Maddie came to Hermione and gently removed Snape’s travel cloak from her shoulders, throwing it in the fire as if it had been infected by the plague. After making sure the cloak would burn sufficiently, she then turned her attention back to Hermione. Small, naked and shaking the girl was almost as tiny as a house elf and just about as ugly. Her body was covered in small scars and sores, signs of fighting and malnutrition. Her skin was a pale grey, sickly and barely clinging to her boney structure. Her head was shaven and cut, scabs had formed but seemed fresher than other wounds on her body. ‘ _ Flees or lice?’ _ the old matron pondered to herself. Whatever had possessed her Master to pick up this girl from the streets and bring her here, Maddie could not understand or come close to comprehending. The Master was not given to such erratic emotions particularly when it come to human life.  _ ‘So why this girl?’ _

  
Fearing the poor thing might freeze right then and there, the the older witch didn’t have much time to ponder her own question. Though immediately upon touching the girl she began to scream. It had been as if this street rat had never been touched before, or was so deprived of human touch that it sent her into a fit. Shaking her head and grasping her firmly by both arms, Maddie lifted the girl into the warm tub and tried to sooth her with song. 

 

It didn’t exactly go to plan. If anything the girl began to scream more and thrash at the feeling of the water. There was no difficulty in holding her down with one hand and scrubbing her with the other. She must have weighed all of 35 kg wet she was so scrawny. The accumulation of curious onlookers from the staff bothered Maddie more than the thrashing scarcely human girl in front of her however. She didn’t want more attention than necessary to be drawn to the girl. A little soap, some water and more than a generous helping of patience and slowly the girl began to settle. She’d broken off any of the nails she had and exhausted all of the energy reserves her little body had. Giving the overly curious staff the evil eye, Maddie took advantage of the lull in the storm to scrub the girl properly from head to toe. She was utterly filthy, the water was already black and she hadn’t even gotten half way down her body yet. It was a clear reminder to the head of the house that she had chosen the right side in a war that benefitted only the most evil and nasty witches and wizards. Her Master was a difficult man, but she had earned his respect and enjoyed a certain status amongst the house workers. He was, however, by no means the most evil of those in power. For this she was grateful and determined to keep all those in her charge safe from harm...even this poor little creature from the streets. She would find out soon enough what her Master had planned for this girl. 

 

Lifting the almost catatonic heap of bones out of the black water of the tub, she sat her back on the stool and wrapped her in a towel. The street rat’s baldness made her features stick out starkly, having nowhere to hide in a thick mass of hair. She looked awkward and androgynous. There was something in her eyes that struck Maddie then. If it was determination, grit or just a memory of what had once been she could not be sure, just that a spark existed in this mass of skin and bones that should have long been extinguished. 

 

Maddie took a closer look at the little thing’s body,  battle scars from what she could tell were what truly littered her body. She sighed deeply, that was neither here nor there, nor was it her place to judge which side of history this girl had fought on. Only that she was here, she was alive and of clear importance to the Master of the house, the 2nd in command, the most influential Death Eater in Lord Voldemort's new world order. Maddie clothed her in the smallest maid’s uniform she could find, which still engulfed the girl, slipping over her shoulders and bagging out around her chest and bony hips. It was better than what she had come to her in, at least that. The grey uniform with white apron looked so out of place on her, Maddie wondered if it was even wise to present her to the master in this fashion. She had a schedule to keep and would do as she was told. “Come child.” Maddie said, in a low tone so as not to upset the little thing. “Let’s get you something to eat, you must be starving.”

 

* * *

 

 

The rain had begun to pore down and batter the large windows in Severus’ study furiously, but he merely crossed his arms, leaned against the wall and continued to stare out into the green leafy abyss. It had been exactly on an afternoon like this one, with the grey clouds swirling around, the rain battering the crowd of onlookers, the cold creeping in through the tiny gaps of one’s robes where his life had changed forever. It had been on a day like today that the Dark Lord had executed his friends, the people he had sworn an oath to protect. 

 

He shook his head and squeezed his arms more tightly around his body. His life as a double agent had never been an easy one, but he had always had his clear leanings for the side of light. It was one of his biggest regrets not to have found them before his Death Eater brothers. He would have done the same thing he had with Minerva. Hide them, protect them and see them safely to the outside.  _ ‘I just simply wasn’t fast enough.’  _ he lamented, not noticing how dark the room had grown with the fast setting of a November sun. The only light in the whole matter, the only good he allowed to play through his mind as he watched his mentor, Potter and Weasley swing at the gallows was that Hermione Granger was not among them. That meant that she was still out there somewhere...

 

Years had passed since this day, since these thoughts had flooded his mind and he had all but given up hope to find her alive...until today. The nature of his function for the Death Eaters had hardened him to human interaction. He ran the Labor and Resocialization Camps meant to indoctrinate those deemed pure blood enough into the ‘new world order’ as Voldemort called it. In reality maybe 10% walked out of those horror houses, the rest were used as slaves, laborers, or, if they were lucky, they were executed. Severus was in charge of running these, a sick punishment stemming from the Dark Lord’s knowledge that Severus had once harbored a weakness for Muggles and half-bloods. So in the end, it was he, not the Dark Lord, who was responsible for the mass deaths of wizarding kind and it weighed on him heavily. The only thing that had kept him going, the only thing that gave his life was finding  _ Her.  _

 

It had been her screaming that had drawn his attention to the commotion at the border crossing. It had been the way she had screamed, ‘No’, that thad turned his head and made him intervene. The girl he had found had not at all been what he had expected, not the beautiful frizzy haired woman he had known years before. She looked like an imp, a hairless, naked, boney aberration of what a human should be. But it had been her eyes, her voice….something had given him the hope that it was indeed  _ Her _ . 

 

Severus tore himself from the window and slammed his fists on the his desk.  _ ‘You’re going crazy old man. Hearing things that aren't there, hoping for things that can no longer be.’  _  As hard as he had tried Severus Snape could not resign himself to the very high likelihood that Hermione Granger was dead. That she was lying in dirty London ditch somewhere, dead before he could save her, before he could tell her how much he admired her...before he could tell her how much she meant to him.

 

A knock at the door made him flatten his hands on the desk and look through the strings of his long black hair toward the large doors that were the entryway to his study. “Enter!” he said through gritted teeth, angry not to have a moment to remember Hermione as he had wanted.

 

Breathing deeply Maddie pushed through the doorway to her Master’s study, preparing herself for whatever of a mood he would be in when she came to him. She had been in his service for about two years and knew that she had disturbed him from his thoughts. The Master was an introverted man, who enjoyed silence and time to ponder. 

 

Walking to the desk and bowing slightly she began to speak, knowing that it was best to start and be silenced than to wait in an awkward silence. “Master, the girl is cleaned up and now eating. What would you like that I do with her?”

 

Severus straightened up and studied his head of house in the growing darkness of his study. “You’re wet.” He stated dryly.

 

Maddie nodded slightly, “Yes Master. The girl….uh….the girl was difficult to manage while bathing her.”

 

He smiled at this insight. He had seen the girl struggle against the group of young Death Eaters and almost best one of them in her horrendous state. The thought that she still had the spunk to make life more difficult for his head of house gave a glimmer of hope that it could be Hermione. Of all the people he had ever known, she had been the most determined. Determined to the point of doing whatever was necessary win, get good grades...survive.

 

“I see.” He said plainly. “And how is she?” He made his way around the table, slowly setting alight a small candelabra so as to better study the facial expressions of the woman in front of him.

 

“Sir.” She began, but couldn’t find the right words. She thought a moment then started again, “Sir, the girl is calm now. Other than her extreme malnutrition and overwhelming trauma she has endured…” she stopped a moment, “Master she would not have made it more than a few more days.”

 

Severus nodded. The candlelight flickered across his maid’s face and he could see by her expression that she was troubled about something. “And?” He continued.

 

Maddie fought through her hesitancy. “Master, the girl is not mentally well. I fear for those working here, I fear for her. I am surprised that you would pick up a girl like this and bring her here.” She studied the expression on her Master’s face, which titered between anger and amusement. It was then that it made sense, so she blurted it out, “You think it’s  _ Her  _ don’t you?”

 

His lack of expression or comeback spurred her further, “Sir, this is becoming a sickness. The woman you love is most surely dead. If she is indeed this girl, then she is no longer the woman you…”

 

“Silence!” Severus hissed, his tone threatening violence. He knew better than anybody else what this looked like and how it could be exploited if the wrong people caught wind of it. But this woman, girl, thing...whatever you wanted to call her, was the key to his plan. A plan that had been long dormant, awakened by screams that sounded as if they came from a woman who was almost surely dead, furthered by the desire he had to keep her memory and her compassion, realized in this vessel that held a young tormented woman he had saved. He would keep this girl, this stray from the streets, no matter what the cost.

 

“She will be my chambermaid.” Severus started, filling the void his thinking had left between them. “I will expect her to come with me wherever I go, take notes, keep my tasks in order.”

 

“Master, this girl is young enough to be your daughter. She has been traumatized enough not to be made to ...to come to the bed of a…”

 

At this Severus merely raised his hand, bringing the older woman to her knees. The binding spell was a painful one, one that would teach her to speak her mind only when asked. He waited until she started to sob from the pain before he went to her and bent down, speaking in her ear. “Your mothering qualities are part of the reason I keep you in this house and have appointed you as head of this household. But what I do with the girl is none of your concern, just put meat on her bones and show her the ropes of servant politics. Are we clear?”

 

“Yes Master.” Was all the woman could eek out, such was the pain in her body.

 

A small shuffling noise drew Severus’ attention to the door of his study, which had not been shut completely by Maddie. ‘ _ I wonder how much she heard,’ _ Severus mused, a slight smirk on his face.

 

Releasing Maddie from her torment, Severus walked back around his desk, looking out the window once more, his back to her. “Clean yourself up, then show me to her.”

 

He didn’t have to look behind him to know that Maddie had simply nodded while wiping the tears from her eyes.

 

* * *

 

 

Hermione’s synapses were firing at record speed as she quickly shuffled back into her chair and continue eating the pile of food Maddie had left for her. She had to thank the calories she had gained from this giving her brain the energy to work and her feet the energy they needed to carry her down the hallway. 

 

After her rather traumatic bath experience Maddie had lead her up the stairs, to the top of the large mansion, where she could only assume the Master of the House lived. Then a rather large dinner had been brought up into a tiny side room where she had commenced to eat, and probably too fast for her own good. She had been watched for a short time before the matron excused herself for a moment and had made her way down the hall. It hadn’t taken Hermione two seconds to decide to follow her down the hall and to put an ear to the door of Snape’s study. She had been accustomed to sneaking, hiding and above all listening to the things around her. This was no different, if anything it held more meaning.

 

Aside from the slight creak of the door as she had pushed away she was pretty sure she hadn’t made a sound. Who was this woman that old Snape was in love with? And why did he keep her here? She didn’t have too much time to ponder these topics as the door to her small room opened and she could hear the solitary footsteps of her old Potion’s Master. She purposefully continued to look at her food, bringing some bits of chicken to her mouth and trying to ignore the presence coming her way. He had always had an overbearing presence whether it had been in class or at Order meetings. 

 

Severus allowed several moments to pass while the girl continued her meal, seemingly unaware of his presence. He studied her again, now that the dirt and grit had been removed from her person. You could have dressed any house elf in a maid’s uniform and it would have passed for this girl, and yet…

 

“Look at me.” He ordered, his tone was not harsh as it had been with Maddie, but it was firm and it willed her to obey.

 

She had almond shaped eyes, brown with gold flecks in them. It was the eyes that drew him now in the absence of her voice. “Do you make it a habit of listening in on other people’s conversations?” He asked, his eyes locked with hers.

 

Hermione almost breathed a sigh of relief. She had avoided eye contact with him so as not to give him a pathway into her thoughts through Legillimency. She knew she didn’t have the strength to fight off such an attack, instead he was questioning her. “Uh no I just…”

 

“Master.” He said simply, cutting her off. “You will refer to me as Master from now on, is that clear?”

 

“Yes.” She grit her teeth and swallowed slightly, “Master.” She could not hide how angry it made her to be in the service of public enemy number one. He had betrayed them, all of them, and her closest friends paid the ultimate price for it. While this whole event may have stolen her dream of fleeing to the highlands, it had opened up other opportunities for her. Opportunities for revenge.

 

At this defiant act Severus chuckled, he liked her attitude. He bent over and grasped her chin in his hand, so that they were nose to nose. “Three hours in my home and you already defy me. Tread lightly Miss Simmons.” 

 

Hermione inhaled, keeping her emotions in check. 

 

Severus released her face and stood to his full height in front of her. “Do you know what you will be doing for me? Oh wait of course you do, you were listening in.” He drove the nail just a bit deeper to see if she would squirm. He needed her to be strong if she was going to fulfill her part of his master plan.

 

“Your chambermaid and you umm...secretary.” She paused on purpose, “Master.” She ended.

 

“Do you know what that means?” He inquired.

 

“No, Master.” She said, testing out how far she could push him.

 

Severus snorted, “As my chambermaid you will be responsible for my quarters. Keeping everything clean and tidy, my laundry….my person. You shall be my personal servant and at my beckon call, no matter what I ask.” He paused to observe her expression, then continued. “As my...as you term it Secretary I will need you to keep my accounts and my records. I have a lot to keep track of for the rehabilitation of those in my care, and you will be - with your educational background - central to maintaining that information.” He could see her mind racing.

 

He needed to keep her on the edge of liking him and fearing him. He needed to make sure she was both competent enough to follow through with his plan but complacent enough to his wishes. He needed her to trust him, and he had to figure out a way to build that trust. He went on a whim, “In return for this, other than keeping a roof over your head and food in your belly. I will offer to tutor you in your choice of study. Once your chores are done and things are in order, we can do potions together or I can teach you philosophy, history...anything should your heart desire it.”

 

It was with this statement that Hermione felt torn about Severus Snape for the first time in as long as she could remember. In her former life he had tended toward a softness with her, appealing to her thirst for knowledge. She had even felt a warmth toward him until...well until everything went pear shaped. Hermione looked into his deep black eyes, searching for the man and / or the monster. Then she nodded. She understood what he wanted and knew that this would be a way to slay the beast, with time and patience.

 

Severus couldn’t help but wonder what was going on in her head and be intrigued by it. He needed her to go with this plan, needed to outwit her enough to make sure she would feel it her own idea. For that she would need to be everything to him. His chambermaid, his secretary...his friend. It would be for the greater good, it would be for her and for Hermione. Taking her acceptance he finished, “I take my breakfast at 6am, I expect you to start your duties then. Ask Maddie or the House Elves for assistance in the first days. Then I expect you to do it on your own.”

 

It was with that he left Hermione in the room. She had lost her appetite, her mind awash with everything that had happened to her this day. As Maddie led her to her room, which was a small cupboard like room that adjoined Snape’s with a small window looking out onto the forest, she felt overwhelmed. The room had a bed, a small closet for clothes and a small window, it was tiny but more than she had enjoyed in a long time. Closing the door to the hall Hermione lay down on the soft bed, pulled the fresh sheets around her and cried She cried for sadness, for anger, for happiness and for a life that she would never have. She cried because she could do no more, she cried because, for the first time in a long time, she felt warm and safe. And she cried because she despised the inability to reconcile her feelings for a man who had been her mentor, her teacher, her enemy and now her Master.


	3. The Difficulties of Understanding the Darkness Within

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione continues to maintain her new identity, while Severus struggles with feelings of loss and guilt.

**Chapter 3: The Difficulties of Understanding the Darkness Within**

 

“Psssst!” came a voice from behind the shed, it was sharp enough to turn Maddie’s head but not enough to alarm her. “Pssst, Maddie over here.”

 

It was the girl that the Master had picked up only a few weeks before, Erica. It never ceased to amaze the old women how much the girl had changed since her tentative start in Master Snape’s household. The scared little creature that had come to her on a cold fall afternoon, and to her great surprise had blossomed through the winter. She was still skinny in Maddie’s opinion, but now the maid’s uniform at least fit her reasonably. Her face had filled out and there was a twinkle in her eye that had all but been extinguished a few months before. The girl had a good head on her shoulders, was smart as a whip and carefully managed her way round the other servants in the household. It was easy as the personal servant of the Master, his Chambermaid, to draw the ire and jealousy of the other servants working there. Those who wanted to move up or gain more influence would strive for such positions. In an uncanny sort of way, this girl seemed to know Master Snape’s moods, recognize the best times to approach him and did everything he wanted to an almost mechanical perfection. It was almost ask if she knew the man intimately and Erica did it with such an air of childlike grace, with an eye open to the world that it was hard for anyone in the house to dislike her. Though she had come kicking and screaming into this household, it was not long into the winter when it dawned on the old matron that she could not imagine a house without the girl. Even then something wasn’t quite right with her, call it a feminine intuition, though Maddie couldn’t put her finger on it exactly.

 

“What is it child?” Maddie said in a lowered voice, adjusting the wood she had just chopped on her hip. She enjoyed doing things by hand from time to time, no need to always use magic. Chopping wood kept her moving through the winter and strong. It was her own personal escape from servitude. It must be said however, that Maddie was not at all naive of what the girl wanted so badly, and it was things like this that only reinforced her feeling that something was indeed out of place.

 

“Come over here, please! I need your help again.” Erica’s voice had a bit of laughter behind it and as Maddie made her way to the back of the shed, where the girl lay in wait, she was not surprised by what she found. A pair of sheers lay on the fence post and the girl had removed the handkerchief she typically wore over her hair while doing her chores. 

 

The matron shook her head and placed the wood on the ground. There was no snow, just a damp mud floor on a sunny winter day. The sky was blue, the sun was shining and Erica held a mischievous look in her eye. “Again?” Maddie started with mock surprise. She would never understand why the girl insisted on keeping her hair so short in such a near pixie type cut. It was quite obvious from the shining color and slight curl that had started, that the young lady would have a splendid mane of hair, if she would just let it grow. But the girl was stubborn and insisted on keep it as short as possible, and as hidden from the Master as possible.

 

There was work to be done and Maddie didn’t want to stand out in the cold any longer than necessary. So it was with a shiver and a nod that the head of the household quickly cut the young lady’s hair back to a shorter, tight almost elvin cut around her head. Somehow it suited her mischievous nature but still, Maddie couldn't’ help but feel she was doing something wrong. So she did her best to finish as quickly as possible.

 

Hermione stifled a sigh of relief as she watched her rusty brown hair fall gently to the ground. It would have been silly to be caught after all this time simply due to the fact that she had let her hair grow too long. The way Snape had been looking at her recently had been a reminder that she needed to keep it cropped closely to her head. He had been suspicious from the moment he had her in his carriage that she was not the person she claimed to be on paper. One less identifying factor meant less ways for him to be make a decision. This was what it had become after all. A bit of a game where it was unclear whether he would find out her true identity or she would find the proper moment to have her revenge. 

 

_ ‘Revenge. _ ’ she told herself and instantly she was taken back to her first night in the large manor house in the woods. She had cried a lot, so much in fact that she had had no more to give. It was then that her purpose for coming to this house had been made clear. Revenge, pure and sweet. It was nothing spiritual, nothing religious, just the will of the fates that had driven her into the heart of this dark world. She knew she could not have come all that way, knocked on both freedom’s and death’s door and been pulled away all for nothing.  _ ‘I will kill him.’ _ she had told herself and the feeling the realization had given her was electric. She had never set out to kill a man before, but Hermione knew she the key to success was fitting into this house as best she could. It had not been easy, she had to go against her well honed survival instincts, but she was getting there. 

 

The fact that Maddie was suspicious of her didn’t  phase her one bit. As Hermione had written nothing down and kept no records of her intent the old witch would have to be an exceptionally accomplished legitimens to penetrate her mind. The only person in this world she had met who would be able to break down her defenses was Severus Snape, for this she always maintained a coy demeanor, avoiding eye contact and doing her best to be as invisible as possible. This meant even in those few moments when he took the time to teach her. She quickly wiped the slowly growing smile off her face at the thought of these moments. They were the only times in the last years that made her feel normal again, that gave her the comfort of doing something she loved and excelled at. She, of course, had to blank out the fact that her self declared archenemy was teaching her, but it was the learning, the practice, the study that had given her the strength to move on. It was this odd interplay between her deepest darkest pains and her deepest darkest desires that both lit the spark of her personality and confused her beyond even her own comprehension. To despise a man so much that you would feel no remorse to kill him, and to be grateful to him for alleviating the pain and despair of your situation was a difficult feeling to maneuver.

 

Upon completion of her quick haircut, Hermione thanked the older lady, felt her head for good measure and wrapped her head back up in her handkerchief. She could tell by the height of the sun in the sky that she was late and old Snape didn’t like her to be late when he had a lesson waiting for her. Pausing only a moment to help Maddie adjust the wood on her hip, she scurried off as fast as she could through the maze of passageways leading to the top floor where the dark, cold Master of the house waited for her.

* * *

 

The grandfather clock in Severus’ office struck two and he twitched with irritation. The girl was rarely late, but when she was it angered him beyond comprehension. Severus hated having to wait for anybody, particularly his Chambermaid, who he was explicitly rewarding for her good behavior by teaching her potions. He tapped his finger impatiently on his desk. After 30 seconds passed and she had not come he snorted in continuing irritation and searched for the picture he kept in the breast pocket of his waistcoat. The feeling in the pit of his stomach never changed, no matter how many times he looked at it, he always had butterflies when he saw her flash that amazing smile. He had saved Hermione’s graduation picture from the archives at Hogwarts before it had been burned to the ground. It was all he had left of her, a black and white photograph in which she cruelly turned and smiled ravishingly as the Head Girl of Hogwarts as if to tease him that she still existed. As if to smile only for him. He had often wondered if she had ever thought about him positively in these final years of her studies, before the war broke out properly. They had grown close in their work for the Order at that time, but he had been too timid, too afraid of what had been growing inside him at the time to act on it. In hindsight he should have said something, should have professed his deepest, most taboo feelings for the girl. To hell with what others would have thought…. _ ’It all seems so trivial now.’  _ he lamented.

 

It was only by chance that he noticed Erica standing in front of his desk, observing him with her very schooled stare. She was careful to not give away her true feelings and Severus could empathize with that. He was careful too. They had both been through traumas not of their own making. Over the time she had been in his house he felt a kind of connection to her that he did not share with the others in the house. His servants and workers had not been exposed to the large part of the war. The world order had simply shifted in their favor and few knew of the horrors and atrocities being committed beyond the walls of his small castle. This empathy did not, however, exclude her from his anger for being late for this particular lesson.

 

“You could have at least announced your presence, tardi or not.” He said narrowing his eyes and studying the girl for her response. 

 

Hermione simply bowed her head and closed her eyes, as a way to say she was sorry. She knew nothing she said would be right, so what was the point of drawing him in further? What interested her more was the picture he had held in his hand, then quickly stuffed into his pocket again as he addressed her. It was not the first time she had caught him staring at it, and she wondered if it was the mythical ‘Her’ he had spoken of to Maddie when she first came to the house. She was wildly curious as to who could have snagged old Snape’s affections, he was a difficult man at best - but could probably be charming if he tried. He was well read and highly intelligent, even she had caught onto that all those years ago, when times had been different. She noticed the potions setup when she walked into his office and had been instantly sent back to her adolescence. The vivid memories of Harry and Ron poking each other under their desks. The jokes they had made about Snape while she had tried so hard to soak up every bit of the knowledge he had attempted to impart on them as a class.  _ ‘It all seems so trivial now.’ _ she sighed to herself.

 

Severus eyed her a moment before waving her toward the small potions lab he had set up in his office. It had taken some time, but she was finally getting up to a healthy weight. As her face filled out and her body rounded he couldn’t help but feel haunted by the presumed ghost of Hermione. Perhaps her nose was a little off, and it was hard to really put her features into the context of pixie cut, but it was something in her eyes and her voice that penetrated him. At times it made him lash out at her and at times, like now, it softened his anger.  _ ‘You’re getting older and softer. Don’t forget your ultimate goal...attachment is useless.’ _

 

Hermione took her desk and studied the ingredients laid out in front of her. She suppressed a grin, as she knew what the potion would be even before he started lecturing.

 

“Today we will brew a simple health potion. I assume you have done something similar in your studies before they were halted.” He raised his eyebrow and looked down on the girl. Her eyes turned to his, the golden flecks were mesmerizing. 

 

“I did some potions at my school yes, but I was never any good Master.” She hated ending her sentences with that word, but knew it was necessary. She had seen him handle other servants for such infractions and would prefer to waste his goodwill on other things.

 

Severus snorted at her answer. Either she was extremely humble or covering something up. Regardless of her grades in school, which were average at best according to her records, Erica was anything but average in intelligence. Whether she intended to cover it up or not, she always excelled in everything he taught her. It was as if she had done all the things before, or was way ahead of her year. He could never be sure exactly which one, but he would keep an eye on her today. She was smart enough to fit into his plans, at least that was firmly established. He would need her to think for herself, take matters into her own hands.  _ ‘But how to test this?’ _

 

As he broke into his classic lecture on the potion, its history and properties Hermione could feel the darkness rising inside of her. As she sat at her pre-prepared station with all the tools she would need to make this healing potion, she couldn’t help but wonder if the knife on her table was long and hard enough to pierce his heart. Would she be able to throw the boiling contents of her caldron on him and have enough time to bury the knife deep into her mark? She had been learning his routines, had such an intimate knowledge of what he did and where he spent his time - it was only a matter now of finding the right time and the most efficient method. Her time was almost certainly running out. Everyday as she grew stronger, and she started to look more like herself was a day closer to him figuring out her true identity. If she didn’t act soon, her element of surprise would be lost.

 

It didn’t take years of experience teaching school to know that she wasn’t listening to a word he said. The girl was lost in some kind of thoughts, as she often was, and he was almost certain she would not understand how to even begin with this potion. It was not difficult in and of itself, however you needed to know how to begin in order to brew the potion properly. He nodded to her to begin and was shocked to see her, almost mechanically, pick up the knife provided and start to cut the first ingredient. No book, no reference materials….and she had not been listening to him. He narrowed his eyes but did not say anything, this was a typical Miss Simmons moment. No matter how poor her grades may have been in any subject he taught her in, no matter how much he thought she wasn’t listening, she had this way of doing everything to a practiced perfection. As if she had done or learned the subject before, but wanted to hide it or cover it up somehow. 

 

Of course his instincts told him to be weary of this, reminded him that something with this girl and her identification papers didn’t add up. For as much as this told him to keep her at arm’s length, it also drew him to her. The curiosity of who she was, what had happened to her and why she reminded him of Hermione kept him fixated. He subconsciously touched his vest where his inner breast pocket was, loosing her with very little hope of finding out anything was slowly taking its toll on him. His memories of her and this picture were all that he truly had left of her, even those were slowly fading and fraying at the edges. This girl, this mystery of a witch that had fallen into his life, would surely be the vessel through which he would finish Hermione’s work. This strange enigma of a creature would embody the completion of something Hermione, the woman he had so respected and desired, had started -  if only he gave her a little more time. Erica was smart, that much was certain. She would need to think on her feet and make the right choices if this was going to work. 

 

Hermione was beginning to buckle under his burning gaze. True he had been looking at her more intently in recent weeks, but today she could not say what was on his mind. She tried to focus on her chopping, turning up the fire in order to bring the contents of the cauldron to a boil. She could brew this potion in her sleep, but did her best to take pause, write notes and ask the occasional question to her ex-professor when she felt it made sense. She was channeling a bit of Ron and Harry in this way, remembering where they struggled with the potion and what they might have asked. She wiped a tear from her eye at this memory of her friends and hoped that old Snape had not seen it. Though his gaze was more penetrating than ever, she couldn’t be sure what he was focused on. What she was sure of, was that it was getting warm in there. The fire placed popped and crackled behind her, the cauldron was beginning to boil and her uniform were colluding against her, making her perspire. She removed the handkerchief she wore around her head and began to slowly dab her forehead, hoping in vain that it would relieve some of the stress. Hermione was confident that her new haircut would not give her away, nevertheless she glanced over at her Dark Master. Expressionless he walked closer to where she was, observing her every move. 

 

To say she wasn’t nervous would be a lie, but Hermione had to continue on as if she wasn’t concerned by his stare, by the closeness of his body to hers. With no idea as to what shifted his mood, she had to remain focused on the task at hand. She rolled up the sleeves of her maid’s uniform hoping that would give her some relief, but that hope would be short lived. Like lightning he seized her right wrist, pulling it closer to him and to the light. She let out a squeal and instinctively grabbed his arm, kicking to pull free. 

 

“Where did you get this?” Severus’ voice was low and deep, a dark growl forged in anger and confusion. His eyes flickered to a distinctive scar on her wrist, one that could only be made from the sap of a Gormong root. The sap was corrosive and burned if it came in contact with the skin, leaving a distinctive wave pattern. It was extremely painful and took time to dissolve. Hermione had one of these scars as well, and almost exactly in that spot if he wasn’t mistaken. How could he be? He remembered it as if it were yesterday if not for the plain and simple fact that it had been the first time he’d touched her skin. The first time he’d looked into her eyes and comforted her. This moment was etched so deep into his mind that he couldn’t help but be overwhelmed with emotion seeing that Miss Simmons also had a scar like this.

 

Hermione was in panic mode. It had been in her 4th year when she burned herself in his class. She had been 15 years old and had never felt something so excruciating in her life. He had calmed her, taken her to the hospital wing of Hogwarts...he had been so gentle with her. Now he was going to use that scar to identify her if she didn’t think of something quick.

 

Her hesitation only angered him further, “Tell me where you got this girl!”

 

“I was tortured!” she screamed, it was the only thing that came to her mind. Some tears rolled down her cheeks as she screamed the words again. If he found her out now she would be dead, no vengeance, no justice, her life for nothing. “I have scars all over my body.” She knew it might heighten his suspicious about her former or present allegiances, but she needed to say something.  _ ‘Shit!’ _

 

It was with that, that she used her left hand to pull her uniform neck over her shoulder, revealing only some of the scars and pains she had accumulated over her last years on the streets. His grip was like a vice, but to make a peep would be to tip this very tedious balance of emotion against her.  She hoped against hope that he would believe her lie, that he would calm down, forget this had all happened. Hermione closed her eyes, not wanting his face to be the last thing she saw before he killed her.

 

The girl had exposed her shoulder and part of her chest to him, exposing an intricate display of scars stemming from the use of different curses and physical torture methods. It was clear she had endured much, he didn’t need to see more of her to know that. He loosened his grip on her arm and looked up at the clock. It was nearly 6:30pm. 

 

“That’s enough for today.” He murmured. “Go draw me a bath and wait. I’ll be up shortly.” She scuttled out of the room saying something that might have been akin to ‘Yes, Master’ but he couldn’t really be sure. Once he heard the door click he put his head in his hands and took a deep breath. ‘ _ What are you doing old man? Now you are seeing her in every little scar and every little glance? She has a thousand scars on her body and all you can see is Hermione.’ _

 

“You’re dead!” He exclaimed and threw some glass vials into the fire. “You’re dead because of me.”

* * *

 

Hermione was almost out of breath and crying uncontrollably as she filled Snape’s bathtub with warm water and soap. She had almost been caught, he was only moments away from identifying her and then he let her go. She placed her hand over her left side and felt the knife she had stolen from the potions setup there, a reminder that she needed to fulfil her pledge. It would have to be sooner rather than later. While he’s sleeping perhaps? She didn’t have time to think about it, she had to pull herself together. She turned to the full length mirror in the bathroom, which housed a bathtub large enough for three and looked at her face. She wiped the tears from her eyes and quickly practiced an emotionless expression. It was imperative to act as if nothing had happened, as if it was usual and ok. Hermione needed him to be confident that everything was normal, so that she could strike. 

 

There wasn’t much time for her to clean herself up, she could hear the creaking of the bedroom doors announcing his entry into the room. She quickly moved from the bathroom into the bedroom, her hands crossed in front of her ready to receive him. Severus walked past her toward the bathroom as if she wasn’t there. She made a move to leave the bedroom all together, then he stopped and lingered in the doorway of the bathroom. “Help me.” He said simply, almost too low to hear what he said. It was dark in the bedroom and the weak candle light stemming from the bathroom silhouetted his tall frame in the doorway. His long hair fell to the side as he turned his head toward his shoulder, to see if she was coming.

 

She was shocked, he was breaking with routine. Professor Snape had always approached these situations in the same victorian way he did his robes shopping, by giving both himself and her a sense of modesty. In the few months she had stayed in this house she had never once not seen him dressed, even then with long arms and long pants. If she understood his request correctly, then that meant…

 

Hermione moved to the bathroom, shutting the doors behind her. Doing her best to contain her nerves, she moved in front of the tall, dark haired man in front of her. Without looking in his eyes, as she often did, she lifted her hands to his waistcoat tentatively - as if to make sure she wasn’t overstepping some silent boundary. Snape’s silence spurred her to continue. Hermione carefully unlatched each of the many buttons on his waistcoat, moving then to the white collared shirt he wore underneath. She slowly undid those buttons as well, pulling the shirt from where it was tucked into his trousers. His breathing changed then, from steady to slightly more labored. Hermione didn’t dare look up, too nervous and too afraid a wrong move might set him off as it had done in his study. She moved around his body, facing his back and removed both his waistcoat and his shirt at the same time. 

 

She allowed the garments to fall to the floor and what met her eyes in the dim light, was not at all what she expected. The gentle curve of his spine stood out against the muscles which held it in place. Professor Snape had always struck her as a skinny, lanky, bookish type - not one who used his body to work. The definition and ridges of muscle that covered his back rolled over his shoulder blades, turning and twisting into a neat ‘V’ shape at his lower back. Though it was the myriad of scars that truly held her interest. His body was not so much different from her own in this way, he had been beaten and tortured. His back alone told a hundred tales of pain and suffering, whippings, unforgivable curses… _ ’He’s suffered as much as I have…’  _ she thought to herself. 

 

Severus tried not to breathe too heavily as she stood behind him and inspected his back. He was not one to show his body, much less the horrors it had endured over the years. Yet he felt it the only true way to gain this girl’s trust. These marks, these memories etched into this skin told her more about who he was and he ever could. When she moved her arms around his waist toward the front of his trousers to unbutton and remove them, he couldn’t help but feel aroused as her soft fingers came between his skin and the fabric. The benign touch of a woman was something he had so longed for over the years, more specifically ‘Her’ touch. As the realization washed over him that this may never happen, he felt a pang of guilt for enjoying the gentle feel of Erica’s hands on his body. Her hands drew his trousers and his underwear over his legs, awakening a desire he had ignored for a very long time. Severus smirked at her last attempt to give both of them some decency by waiting behind him until he moved toward the tub. 

 

No matter where she looked she could see some part of his body and couldn’t help but be drawn to it by both curiosity and desire. He had always been the master of putting her in the strangest situations as a student, making her both despise and admire him. This moment was no different. She was ashamed to acknowledge that she wanted to touch his body, feel his skin, explore it. Hermione was broken from her musings when she heard him say, “Come here. Remove your uniform and wash me.”

 

Her eyes met his and she realized that this was the moment. If she could gain his trust, then she would be able to capitalize on this opportunity, give into the darkness that was consuming her and rid the world of him forever. She turned her back to him, playing on what little modesty he might assume she had. She adjusted the blade under her petticoat as she removed her maid’s uniform. Inhaling she turned to face him in his porcelain stand alone tub, situated in the center of the candle lit room. 

 

The light was dim in the bathroom as she walked toward him. Even then her thin white camisole didn’t leave much to the imagination. She had put on a good amount of weight in the time she had been in his household and it showed in the curvature and perkiness of her breasts. Severus could feel his blood pressure rising in anticipation of her touch. She grabbed a small stool and sat behind him, gently running her fingers through his hair. Severus began to relax despite himself. Her fingertips were so gentle rubbing his head, pulling lightly on his scalp that it was almost inconceivable how he laid back in the warm water, closed his eyes and allowed her to do it. Her hands moved over his neck and down his chest, Severus exhaled deeply enjoying this rare bit of attention. 

 

Hermione took a moment observe him. She could honestly say she’d never seen him so relaxed. His head tilted back, the water to his chest, her hands shamelessly memorizing the muscles of his chest and back. He was so beautiful in this moment that she almost thought twice about her dark plans.  _ ‘No.’  _ she reminded herself,  _ ‘You made a promise.’  _ It would be a peaceful way to leave this earth, relaxed, massaged...taken care of.

 

“Would you mind to put a little more pressure on my…” it was only by chance that he opened his eyes in this moment. The light in the room was enough for him to see the glint of the blade as it made its way toward his chest. She was fast, but he was stronger catching her hand quickly and with enough force to knock the blade across the room and pull her over his shoulder and into the tub with him. Severus held her hand that had possessed the blade outstretched toward her one o’clock, her second hand he had grabbed and pulled behind his own back. 

 

Hermione was stretched out across his naked body, too shocked and scared to move. It was unnerving how calm he was, she had just attempted to murder him in his bathtub and she swore his blood pressure had not increased over its resting rate. She could feel the warm trickle of blood stream down her outstretched arm. Seems her aim had not been all for not, she had caught him just a bit on the hand. It didn’t seem to phase her ex-Potions Master as he nuzzled her neck, taking in her scent. Severus’ lips made their way up her clavicle and toward her jaw. She quivered more for arousal than fear. He drew breath from her jugular to her ear before finally pulling his face away in order to speak. “The next time you make an attempt on my life, you had better be successful. Otherwise I will feed you to my hunting dogs. Is that understood?”

 

His voice was a whisper, but he didn’t have to raise it to get his point across. “Why don’t you just kill me now?” Hermione asked, staring him in the eye, frozen by fear and bursting with curiosity.

 

A smile crossed Severus’ face and he leaned back to take stock of the, vibrant, short haired, skinny girl in front of him. His blood and stained her now see through camisole, she was wet and scared - yet bold enough to question him even when he had the upper hand. It was erotic and even if that idea had not popped into his head so blatantly, the bottom half of his body would have surely pointed him in that direction. He was almost fully aroused. He pulled her closer so she could feel his manhood against her thighs. 

 

Then he answered, “Because ‘She’ wouldn’t approve.”

 

Of all the cryptic answers he could have given her, this was not at all what she had expected. Though her brain made the connections quickly, “The woman in the photo. Who is she? Perhaps I know her.” Snape still have a vice grip on both her hands, and the more he pulled her to him the more she was certain of his inescapable manhood. 

 

“Tread lightly Miss Simmons, you’ve botched enough for one night.”

 

Then it hit her, “Was she on the side of the Order? Perhaps I know her or know of her. “ Hermione was wild to know who this mystery woman was and how she had captured Snape’s heart. 

 

The flicker in his eyes was all she needed to know she was right. “She is dead. Aside from that we have set off a chain of events from which even I am not prepared to go back from.” He stared at her for a moment, releasing her arms before he continued, “Be in my study early tomorrow morning, 5am. Maddie will bring you the proper robes. Don’t be late this time.” His tongue danced along the final word. “Leave me.”

 

Befuddled Hermione pulled herself out of the tub, wet undergarments and all. She dragged the weight of her wet cloths slowly toward the exit. Severus grabbed a towel and applied pressure to his hand. The cut was not bad, but it had been a sharp knife and he would need to stop the bleeding. 

 

He eased back and repeated to himself, “Step 1, find somebody who can both adore and despise you. Step 2, show them killing you isn’t the best way to fuck you over. Give them a context on which to launch their coup.” 

 

Miss Simmons had passed the first phase and not a moment too soon. There was a darkness on the horizon, the likes of which he had not seen in awhile. Things were changing in the Death Eater world and if he wanted his plan to work, if he wanted to uphold his promise to Hermione’s memory, he would need to act soon, and what more - he would have to understand the depths of the darkness within them both.


	4. The Devil's Pawn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Hermione is thrown knowingly into Death Eater politics, where she will have to make a difficult choice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All my best to those reading and enjoying this fic. As always, love to hear your questions and comments!

###  **Chapter 4:  The Devil’s Pawn**

 

Hermione tried hard to suppress the wriggling of her body as she stood alone in the study of Severus Snape, waiting for his arrival. She was not wriggling out of excitement or anticipation, but rather out of nervousness and fear. Not one moment of sleep had graced her that night after she left her Master’s bathtub both dumbfounded and confused. He had seemed more amused than angry, more aroused than furious and she had no idea what would happen next. All that she could say was that Maddie had given her an almost muggle like school uniform with a black sweater vest, black pleated skirt, white top and some long flowing black robes with his insignia on it. She didn’t know if she was going to be punished or even rewarded for what had happened the night before. While it would be easy to make the assumption that she might be used to feeling powerless, the fact that she could not anticipate what the consequences of her actions would be, scared her.

 

At 5am on the dot he stormed into the study, taking some papers from his desk and stopping to inspect her as one would their own private guard. His cut hand was not bandaged or stitched, all that remain of the cut was a thin pink line on his white flawless skin, almost completely healed up. If she had been less in control of her wits she could have almost said last night had been a dream, her true desires bleeding between her imagination and reality. But no, the faint cut on his hand, healed by some salve or potion was proof that she had done what she had done, failed and was still here.

 

Satisfied that she was dressed appropriately he motioned her to follow him out the main entrance of the study, down the huge staircase of the manor house and outside to his waiting carriage. They said nothing, their steps the only sounds on this cold dark morning. Hermione hated sitting across from him in the confines of the small carriage. It gave him the opportunity to observe her close up, to have his eyes roll over her face and body ...and every opportunity could lead to detection. Keeping her eyes down and her arms wrapped around her body defensively she looked out the window, pretending to be anywhere but there. 

 

It was all Severus could do not to crack a smile as he observed her unapologetically. She was clearly uncomfortable under his gaze and he wondered to himself if she felt remorse or exhilaration from the events of last night. He, personally, had slept well after he had tended to his hand. He also hadn’t had an erection quite like that in recent memory. While it did feel like he was being untrue to Hermione’s memory, he had to slowly face the practicality that while she was most likely dead, he was still very much alive. There was something about last night that had brought him to life, her determination her execution...her boldness. Erica’s way was so similar to Hermione that he couldn’t help but wonder, even now as the morning dawn kissed her face, if she was ‘Her’. 

 

Something certainly didn’t check out with Miss Simmons to say the least. He couldn’t put his finger on whether it was her story, or her exceptional talent with magic versus her grades in school or something else. Even the way she sat now, uncomfortable and closed off to him showed him that she had something to hide, something worth killing him for. As easy as it would be to look into her mind, plunder it for all its secrets, and reap the benefits of it’s deepest darkest secrets, he had made a choice not to. He did truly hope that she had been an Order member as she had claimed last night, that she did work for the side he had so miserably failed. Deep down, if she had indeed been an Order member, it would have been impossible for her not to have known Hermione, to have interacted with her in some way. In this way it was his own fear that protected Erica’s mind from his unceremonious probing. The fear of reaping her memories and finding some interaction with the woman he had fallen for so desperately, that it would be more recent and fresher than his own tattered and fading memories of her. The fear of seeing her again kept him at bay. It kept him, like a scared and insecure child, away from what she might be thinking. Away from a sorrow that would have broken him.

 

The quick change in her demeanor signaled to Severus that they had almost arrived at their destination, Resocialization Camp 5. There were many camps scattered across the tight bit of space that Voldemort so eagerly guarded against the outside world. Most of them were small, perhaps no more than one hundred people there and some guards, but Camp 5 had thousands. Even more, if those held in Camp 5 weren't doing hard labor, they were being prepared for extermination. There was no nice way to put it and it was clear that it was communicated to the outside wizarding world in much the same way as it was the inner circle of Death Eathers he inhabited, that it was not a place you wanted to go. It was not a place you wanted to see. If you did the chances were small you would ever leave.

 

The site of the monumental structure and the fences that surrounded it made Hermione grip at the velvet upholstery of the carriage. She began to shake and hyperventilate. After all this time with Snape she had succeeded in keeping her emotions in check, her street instincts neatly tied up in a compact box, away from his sight and suspicion. This changed everything, it was as if she had been pulled from the streets only moments before. The fear and the utter panic that swept through her tiny body was almost incapacitating. ‘ _ I’ll go there and I’ll never come out’  _ she kept repeating to herself in her head over and over again. 

 

It was only when she felt the distinct pain in her neck that came with being shook to one’s senses did she realize what was happening. His deep black eyes were as dark as coal and staring right into hers. Severus Snape was gripping her by the shoulders, his fingers cutting through the thick fabric of her cloak. “Look at me!” His voice was only just above a whisper.

 

Her eyes were brown and large, the worry lines in her brow were visible. Severus knew she was afraid, knew that she had probably spent most of her sad post-Order existence dreading a place like this. Once he was sure he had her full attention he began, “You keep it together, do you hear me?” He cocked his head to the side, as if by tipping it he would be able to discern whether she was processing his words. “We cannot show weakness in there. Am I clear?”

 

There was an urgency in his voice that he was trying to cover, but Hermione picked up on it  _ ‘Why is he afraid of this place?’  _ she wondered to herself. His eyes held her a moment longer and she turned away, remembering he could move into her mind without her even knowing. 

 

Severus settled back into his seat and turned his head out the window. He would need her to deliver today, he would need her to show him what she was made of. Anything to the contrary would put his plan, and Her legacy at risk. 

* * *

 

The camp was a dark and lonely place. A place even more hopeless than the burned out ruins of London, where Hermione had scraped together an existence not fit for an animal. Resocialization Camp 5 was not fit for anything living, much less anything that valued  its heart beat. It kept Hermione constantly on edge as she followed Severus Snape around the facility, parchment and quill out in the wizard way, floating about her, taking notes on the facility. They had no sooner been greeted at the entrance of the camp then whisked away inside its deepest darkest bowels.

 

“Take notes Miss Simmons.” Had been her only instructions as she scuttled behind her Master, doing her best to keep up with his long strides. 

 

The man showing them around was unknown to her, so not in the main inner circle of Death Eaters, yet he enjoyed his power over those less fortunate than himself. She despised that, it made it difficult not to glare at him as they made their way around the dilapidated old building. Things had to be done, parts of the building maintained, pieces totally replaced. The whole thing seemed to be leading to something, Hermione couldn’t put her finger on it but it was clearly not a maintenance inspection they were doing. It was almost like he was pleading with her expressionless Master, building a case for a topic that she was not briefed on. 

 

Passing the holding cells Hermione jumped when some crazy prisoners ran against the bars, making a loud clanging noise. Before she could even make a second sound after screaming he was there, her dark companion pressing her behind him with one hand and slitting the throat of the main offender with the other. The block went silent as the man lay gurgling at the edge of his cell, his blood flowing onto the walkway where they now stood. Snape looked down at the blood with a deep disgust, as if somebody had smeared shit in the walkway, waited for the man to die, then moved on - the men surrounding him following closely. 

 

Shaking the shock off her face and doing her best to keep up Hermione did her best to focus on the what notes she was taking. That could have been her last night, she could have met the same fate as that man, driven crazy by false imprisonment. ‘ _ Somehow he sees it fit to let me live.’  _ she thought to herself as they made it to the Warden’s office.

 

Hermione stood meekly at the side of her protector, looking down at the floor but trying her best to observe things around her. The faces of her, Ron and Harry had been plastered all over the city for years, she didn’t want her whole existence to rest on the chance that some guy could just pick her out from a picture. So she chose not to look at anybody, hoping they would not even notice she was there. The Warden of the camp walked out from his office, a smug look on his face, walking right past Hermione and right to Severus Snape. He was uncomfortably close to her former professor, and an air of dissent.

 

It made her break her staring match with the floor to get a better look, ‘ _ They want to kill each other.’  _ Was the only thing that kept running through her mind. ‘ _ Not all is as happy in this dark paradise as it might appear.’ _

 

“Snape.” The Warden began, his voice dripping with disgust just at the pronunciation of his name. “I’m so glad you could take time out of your busy schedule to aid us in this matter.” The tension between the two was thick, the Warden not wanting to show weakness in front of his men, Severus maintaining his cool menacing air of control. It was clear to Hermione that this pair had never gotten along.

 

“Well when you fuck things up as often as you do Wormgood, it becomes a matter of urgency, not a matter of courtesy.” Her Master’s voice was low and deep, almost making a rumbling in her chest as he spoke. Hermione had been convinced that he had hated her while she was in his classes, but it was clear now what real hate sounded like when it passed the lips. 

She felt as though the staring match would never end when Severus spoke first, “Take me to the place where the incident happened.”

 

Without a word they were again afoot in the large, dark and miserable place where Voldemort kept enemies of the state. A prison for those who did not deserve to be imprisoned, a place where the life was sucked, beaten and worked out of you. A place where countless friends and comrades were being held. Hermione didn’t recognize anybody from her trip around, but then how could she? There were thousands there, all underfed masses of bones, much like she was when she was taken into her Master’s charge. 

 

It was not long before they came down into a cellar where four men were being held, naked, on their knees with their hands tied behind their backs. It only took a moment for her to realize they were guards and not inmates, as amount of meat on their bones indicated regular meals. They were gagged and looked at the entourage as they walked it, then suddenly began all at once to plead through bound bodies and gagged mouths. They were all afraid for their lives, not wanting them to be taken away too soon. Aside from this where was a massive hole blown through the weakened walls of the cellar, leading to what Hermione could only guess was freedom.

 

Not noticing the muffled screams of the men Severus turned to his enemy and continued, “How many escaped?” He began to inspect the edge of the blast, as if he were looking for something more.

 

“Fifty. They always seem to escape when your men are on duty.” Came the acid response of Wormgood, his eyes gesturing over to two of the men on the right. Hermione continued taking notes and studied the men a little closer. It took her a second good look to place the face of one of the men, he’d been a Ravenclaw a year ahead of her. Always a pleasant person, who she had shared some classes with and was never treated poorly by. It seemed exceptionally implausible that he would be pulled into such a job.

 

Hermione didn’t have time to think too long on this point, “Considering this always seems to happen when your men take over, I find it hard to believe that the fault lies with them.” Severus looked at the other two men in the opposite corner.

 

Now it was clear what was going on between the men, a feud of power and survival. The Dark Lord loved to keep his inner circle guessing with regard to their position, status and whether they would live another day. This kind of hatred and jealousy came from rewarding that kind of behavior, for rewarding chaos and getting ahead at all costs. Hermione felt sick to her stomach at the thought.

 

“I will not judge these men now without looking at the patterns of these escapes.” Severus began as he disengaged his eyes from the Warden and began to circle the room. “It’s unclear who is responsible for helping our prisoners escape. It could be one set of guards…” the men being held shivered at the thought and due to the cold dampness of the room, “...it could be both working together.” He waited for the tension to build in the room before continuing. “As neither you nor I can make this judgement, I have brought a third party to investigate.”

 

The moment the words hit the ears of the men in the room they all turned to Hermione, the meek short haired young woman, eyes cast down and quill scratching away on a scroll that was, by now, several feet in length. Her cheeks reddened knowing that now all eyes were on her, the eyes of men she had been trying to avoid all morning, men she despised and would have rather seen dead. 

 

“This girl is going to make a judgement on my men?” Came the shrill rebuttal of the Warden, a short blondish man with angry black eyes.

 

Hermione’s blood was racing, her heart pounding, her mind playing out all the scenarios she could transpire. She could feel a thin line of sweat beading up on her forehead as her Master jumped in. “You think this lot is any better?” Severus snorted, “it’s clear your leadership is lacking in more areas than I thought.”

 

The men’s eyes locked angrily, as if sparks would fly from their wands at any moment, that was when it all came to her. “Well I can’t make a judgement before I see the guard logs.” It came out as a squeak, not really a sentence. But it was enough to disperse the tension and focus all eyes on her.

 

She started again, this time looking Wormgood in the eye and putting on her best bossy tone, “I said, I’ll need the guard’s logs and all supporting documentation if I am to make  a proper judgement on the situation.” 

 

As she began to speak Severus was immediately jolted out of the moment, taking a step back from the situation in his mind. He could not have been more pleased by what was going on, to see his little ward taking control of the situation, taking on a job he wanted her to do with little hesitation. The situation with his Warden had deteriorated over the last several months and he knew why. The men Severus had hired were more disposed to aiding the inmates in finding freedom than in torturing and maiming them. It had taken years of planning and careful consideration to cover everything up, make it look coincidental and give these men the opportunity to act on their hearts. He knew his two men were guilty, he knew they should be killed for their transgressions. Severus shook his head gently, this was a test, a test to see what she would do to get what she wanted, what he wanted…

 

“If you think for one fucking second I’m going to give this girl the keys to my…” Wormgood started, pointing at Hermione.

 

“You will give the keys to your office and to the records archives, or I will be forced to discipline you.” There was no emotion in Severus’ voice as he laid out his threat. He didn’t need it, the reaction of the men around him said it all, pure fear.

Choking down his words and grumbling to himself, the Warden pulled a ring of keys from his belt and reluctantly lead them upstairs to his office, across from which was the vast room that held the archives for Resocialization Camp 5.

 

There was a flash in the girl’s eyes that Severus had rarely seen. He wondered to himself what that could possible mean, hoping she was going to do what he wanted her to do. If she were smart, and he had no doubt of that, she would read through the archives to understand who was imprisoned there, who was important to her cause, where they were and the plan of the building. She was the devil’s pawn, put in a position that could either further his personal aspirations or tear them all down with one judgement. Severus subconsciously put his hand on his breast pocket, tapping the picture of Her, then watched young Erica go into the archives. 

 

“You have five hours.” Severus warned, not wanting to waste any more time than necessary. Everything had been so well planned, his choreography executed far better than he could have imagined. Yet she was a wild card, a sliver of uncertainty that could make or break his plan. He could only hope, as the door closed behind her, that she would choose to unwittingly take part in his plan. A plan that had been brewing in his mind since the day his friends were executed, since he slowly began to realize that he might never see his beloved Hermione again. 

 

‘ _ Give me the strength.’  _ He pleaded with the picture resting on his heart. ‘ _ Give me the chance to make it right.’ _

 


	5. A Plan Unfolds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Severus' plan unfolds, while Erica gives him more cause for suspicion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To all those reading and following this story -- thank you so much. I'm working on the final chapter and hope to have the story completed...not right now but with a good epilogue that will give it a sense of completion. Thanks to all those who have given input. I'm still open for that!

**Chapter 5: A Plan Unfolds**

 

He offered her a glass of firewhiskey, extending a tumbler in her direction silently as the fire of his study crackled and popped behind them. She had been listless since the executions at the Resocialization Camp just hours before, it had begun to worry Severus. Not looking in his direction, the young woman he knew as Erica Simmons took the glass from his hand, and he felt both the weight of the glass and his own concerns lift. She stared out his tall study windows, looking into the dark abyss of woods near the manor house as he often did, cupping the glass tight to her breast, not sure what to think or how to feel. Severus knew this feeling well, the feeling that even the most fundamental things in your life were out of your control. His eye lingered on the girl before he made his way to his armchair, poured himself a healthy glass of what he had offered her and sat down near the fire. 

 

There were no words to describe the amount of relief Severus had felt when she emerged from the archives of the camp, her eyes bloodshot either from strain or tears, he had neither known nor cared in that moment. It had taken Erica the five hours he had allotted her to come to a conclusion as to which of the guard pairs had either aided or turned a blind eye to the escape of the dissidents. All the men watched her, wondering what her final word would be. She was doing her best to hide the emotions that must have been swirling inside her. To most people, Erica would have seemed emotionless in this moment, jaw set and mouth pulled into a thin line. To a person who had observed her over months as he had, her attempt at containment was her tell that she was emotionally torn. He’d put her in a position where she could not avoid causing the deaths of two men, she was a pawn in the dangerous politics he was playing in the prison. For any person with a measure of human emotion, it was a horrible thing to have on your conscious. The knowledge that no matter how you decided, human beings were going to die. For a person like Severus, it was an almost daily occurrence. One he had become so desensitized to that he found it difficult to empathize with her.  _ ‘What kind of a monster have I become?’  _ he mulled these words over in his mind as he observed the young lady before him, firewhiskey coating his mouth. 

 

She leaned against the window frame, her back to him with the fire lapping at her clothing. The shadows rose and fell on her, allowing his eyes to dance across her body with the excuse that he was just following the flames. Her shortly cut hair a common brown color he had grown fond of years before, her frame and height reminiscent of the young woman he had lost a long time ago. 

 

‘ _ Even if did find her again, I’m no longer the man I was before. My soul is so blackened, ‘She’ would despise me for who I have become.’   _ He imagined Hermione’s response to him would be much like the girl he had taken into his home, as his mind reflected on the afternoon’s events. She had pointed simply at Wormgood’s men, doing her best to keep her voice steady, saying only, “They are guilty.”

 

Severus had wasted no time in handing down their sentences, “Avera Kadaver” he said quickly, skillfully pointing his wand at the two naked and trembling men to his left. He gave no time for anyone to dispute the sentence, no time to discuss why she had come to her conclusion. Severus had known only in that time that she had chosen the way he had wanted, not the way that was accurately reflected in the logs. She had chosen the loyal Death Eater men, ones who would have fought to the death to keep the prisoners contained, not those who would delight in seeing Voldemort thwarted. 

 

Before his extended absence from his duties, Severus had had more control over who was brought on as a guard and who they worked with. When he had been called away by the Dark Lord, Wormgood had taken this over as Warden. It was not long thereafter that word of frequent escapes had reached not only his ears, but those of the Dark Lord. With no one there to pull strings and fake the books with the number of deaths, his system was slowly falling apart. The guards, of course, had no clue Severus was pulling the strings by pairing Order of the Phoenix sympathizers together, it just simply happened.  Now Severus was locked in a battle for political survival and favor, Wormgood having seen some sort of mismanagement of the facility as a way to rise in ranks. Thus a fierce rivalry had begun, pitting the two men against one another for power, glory and survival.

 

Flexing his swollen fingers so they wouldn’t get stiff, Severus could see that Erica was observing him in the window’s reflection. He took this moment to speak up, “Tell me what you are thinking.” His voice was low, his tone difficult to say no to.

 

She turned her head from the window to him, moving her body slightly so as to see him better. The girl rarely looked directly at him, she favored looking over his shoulder or toward the ground. Now her eyes penetrated him in a way he had not known before. Unsure of what to say, she sipped a bit of firewhiskey to fill the awkward silence. Severus settled in his chair, eyes locked on his prey not giving in to her. He drank her in, staring at her unabashedly until she would speak. Eventually Erica complied, “He really does hate you.” She paused, “The Warden I mean.”

 

Pressing the tips of his fingers together in front of him, Severus simply raised an eyebrow. Apathy exuded from his person.

 

“I guess you already knew that.” She said, realizing a simple sentence would not be enough to quell his curiosity about her thoughts. Erica stared down at her glass a moment, her mouth attempting to contort into the right words. “You didn’t have to beat him almost to death. Now he’ll have a reason to get even, or worse.” She said finally. Her eyes firmly on him.

 

Their eyes locked, Severus said the first thing that came to his mind. ”But he came toward you. Did you not see he was going to kill you?” Instantly he wished he could have taken back his words, but it was too late. They were there, hanging heavily over both of them. A betrayal of his true feelings for the girl in front of him, a betrayal of Hermione who never knew how much he loved her. He felt immediately guilty and vulnerable under her confused gaze.

 

Something was going on in her head as if she were re-playing the moment in her mind, trying to see what he had seen from his perspective. He’d saved her twice now from death, her only thanks to him had been a failed attempt to put him in an early grave. He smirked thinking about the look of surprise on her face as he’d pulled her close to him, knife in her hand, trembling and wet. Not knowing what to think of his expression she looked down at the floor, not wanting to continue matching his gaze. Perhaps it was not often that she had seen a man physically beaten within an inch of his life, perhaps she didn’t know whether to thank him or slap him.  

 

Severus would not have spared Wormgood his life had it not been for Erica. He’d seen the enraged Warden moving toward the girl after his men fell, his wand pointed toward her, an unforgivable curse on his lips. Severus had moved quickly, grabbing the man’s wrist and pointing his wand away from Erica, a blast blowing stone pieces from the wall. That was when his rage took him, Severus grabbed the fatter man in his left hand, then began punching him in the face with his right. It was extremely uncommon for wizards to have physical confrontations, which meant it took them completely off guard when confronted with such situations. Severus always used this to his advantage, punching the blonde man in the face again and again, following him down toward the floor. In this rage he could not hear the Warden pleading for his life, nor hear the words of the other men that surrounded them. Wormgood had tried to kill her, he had tried to harm Erica, and he would pay. The weaker man’s pleas turned to gurgling, then to silence as blood continued to splatter back on Severus’ face. He would have continued beating the man into an unrecognizable pulp had he not caught a glimpse of the horror on Erica’s face. Tears streamed down her cheeks and her lips contorted into a scream. It was the look in her eyes that stopped him - her golden beautiful eyes, she looked at him like he was a beast, a wild animal, a monster. Hermione’s face had flashed into this mind in that moment, their eyes so similar that you could imagine Hermione when you looked at Erica. He’d dropped the unconscious man from his grasp, looked down to see the damage done to his hand, wiped the blood from his face with his handkerchief and left, motioning for Erica to follow close.

 

Coming out of his own musings Severus looked at Erica, attempting to further divine her emotions. She had had enough time in the archives room to see what he had been doing, she was smart enough to put it all together,  _ ‘But had she?’  _ He licked his lips in anticipation, his heart beat faster in his chest at the thought that she might suspect his deeds. He needed her to fear him, in order to keep her mouth shut about what was going on. He needed her to hate him so as to continue his plan in the way Hermione would have envisioned. He needed her to love him, so that he could feel human again.

 

“You feel pity for Wormgood, even though he would have not hesitated to take your life. Why?” He said.

 

“I put two of his closest men to death, I can understand why he might be angry.” She said, looking into her glass and taking another sip. “The Dark Lord has put us all in a mode for survival. He hunts us for doing the things we love, being who we are. He makes us swing at the gallows just because we stand for something that should be normal.”

 

The look that flashed across her face as she said those words, signaled to Severus that she had said something she should not have. The speed with which Severus set upon her, slamming her body into the wall behind her, her glass shattered on the floor, was a sign that he had understood the magnitude of those words. This Erica Simmons knew much more than she had let on before, she could have been very much in the Order’s inner circle. She could have even known ‘Her’.

 

With one hand on her neck, holding her jaw toward him, his other across her chest Severus brought himself nose to nose with the girl. “You knew Potter and Weasley?” He sneered, trying to see how much he could scare out of her. 

 

Tears rolled down the girl’s cheeks as she nodded, a look of sadness and desperation taking over her features, the alcohol had not helped. “Look at me.” Severus ordered. When she refused he said it again, tightening his grip on her neck, “Look - at -me.” She was refusing, closing her eyes and turning her face to the side.

 

With the lack of breath her eyes opened without her wanting them to, it was then that he dove into her mind. He could feel Erica fighting him, her nails scratching across his chest and neck, her feet kicking at him, her body writhing with the hopes of getting away from his iron grip. She was breaking skin, using what little she had at her disposal to protect her mind. Severus was much stronger than her and much more determined to see what the girl knew and if she knew anything about his beloved Hermione. 

 

Severus snorted at the realization that she was an occlumens, and an accomplished one at that. As he dove deeper and deeper into her mind he could not find anything, it was clear as the summer sky, as still as the forbidden forest. It brought him back to when he had taught Potter these techniques and the boy had failed miserably. It brought him back to when he had taught Hermione these techniques and she had excelled. ‘ _ Did she teach you?’  _ he wondered to himself as he pushed further. Erica was using his techniques afterall, ones he had developed over years. The girl was good, she was strong and clearly had more information than he had originally thought. Only spies and high up Order members would have mastered these techniques at such a level that they could deflect his attacks. 

 

Erica was screaming from the pain of what he was doing to her mind, the amount of strength and stamina in her little body was astounding. It was then that he saw a small door in the middle of her mind, it was simple and brown. Severus wasted no time grasping the handle and yanking the door open. Her hand flew to his face, pushing his chin doing her best to turn his eyes away from her own. She was heaving now, hyperventilating at his penetration of her mind. He was close, so close…

 

The door to Severus’ study flew open and Maddie walked through, carrying a letter in a green envelope. “Master this has come urgently for you.” The matron had stumbled unwittingly into his physical battle with his chambermaid. The sight must have been quite something given the level of concern that flashed across her face.

 

At that point it was too late, Severus had lost concentration he pulled from Erica’s mind to attend to the older women. Loosening his grip on the girl she immediately pushed herself away, putting several paces between them, grabbing her throat and coughing. 

 

The letter was from the Dark Lord, “Put it on the table and leave at once.” Severus said, running his hand across his neck, collecting the blood that had been running there.

 

The stunned matron nodded her head stupidly and backed out of the room as quickly as she had barged in.

 

“And you.” Severus continued, his voice full of vitriol. “I’m not done with you.”

 

The look of determination that surfaced in her eyes almost made him smile, ‘ _ The girl has guts no doubt about that.’ _

“Go to your room and report to me tomorrow as usual. Then you will start your controller post at the prison as discussed. Now leave.”

 

She picked herself off the floor and ran out of the room, not looking back. Severus stayed where he was until the door slammed behind her. He went to his drink, downed in one go and threw the glass into the fire.

 

‘ _ If I had been faster, been prepared for her defenses, I might have even glimpsed Hermione...seen her for the first time in a long time.’  _ He sighed.  _ ‘Could I even face her?’  _ His hand went subconsciously to his breast pocket.

 

He whirled around and dropped into his chair near the fire, the green envelope from the Dark Lord just an arm’s length away. His fingers tapped on the wooden table surface, the crisp tone of the wood echoing in his ears. Severus Snape had wished his own death for so long now, imagined how it might be, anticipated it with the utmost care - now that it was staring him in the face he felt nervous, scared even.

 

Erica had been right, he had gone overboard with Wormgood and his men knowing that the Dark Lord would be informed of the incident. He had just not anticipated the summons to be so expedient. His fingers touched the envelope and he felt a tingle in his body, a clenching in his heart.

 

“Oh bloody hell.” Severus exhaled before grabbing the envelope and opening it.

 

_ ‘Dear Severus, _

 

_ It has come to my attention that there is trouble at one of your camps. I will investigate this matter personally. A revel will be head at your home in three week’s time, then we will put this little issue to bed. _

 

_ Lord Voldemort’ _

 

Severus crumbled the parchment in his hand, knowing what this innocuous request meant. There would be blood and it would most likely be his. He put his face in his palms, inhaling and then running them through his hair. Erica would have three weeks to commit the plans of the camp to memory, to know who was in the camp, important enough to free ...and where the wands were being kept. If she was smart and despised him enough, she would find a way to get through his wards holding the wands of the prisoners and change the balance of power. If she was the woman he hoped she was, she would orchestrate the biggest breakout in wizarding history. So many ifs and so little time. Severus’ stomach clenched at the thought of failure. It clenched at the thought of holding her close to him, as close as he had only moments before.

 

_ ‘What other choice do I have?’ _ he pleaded to nobody in particular.

 

The plan had unfolded in front of him, now it was about execution in more ways than one.


	6. For the Love of a Woman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The revel is upon them and both Severus and Hermione must do everything in their power to survive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for dubious consent on both sides of this relationship....in one chapter :-)

**Chapter 6: For the Love of A Woman**

 

3 weeks later…

 

The weeks since her first visit to Resocialization Camp 5 had been as difficult as they were enlightening. Hermione was expected to do double the work of any other servant in Master Snape’s household, doing all of her chores for him first, then appirating to the camp to continue in her controller function. Once she got over the death looks thrown her way by the majority of prison guards there and the attempts to intimidate her, things ran as smoothly as they could. One might expect that a girl of her age, 21 or 22 by this point, would buckle under the immense pressure thrust upon her, but she didn’t. She thrived on it. Fueled by her deep desire to understand everything about the camp, to know its inner workings, to know its strengths and weaknesses, so she might orchestrate the greatest escape in the history of the Wizarding World. 

 

It had already been commit the prison maps to memory, simple to understand when the best times would be to do launch such a daring escape. Between guard shifts was the most vulnerable time of the day and that happened only three times per day. There were other hurdles though, wards on certain parts of the prison, security where they kept the wands. There was then, of course, the issue of the order in which she should let the prisoners out. To open all the doors would be mass chaos, to open the wrong ones would likely lead those less survival inclined witches and wizards to certain death. So Hermione had done her best to pour over the entire list of prisoners and their cell numbers making sure they were etched into her mind. It was surprising to her how many of those committed there she knew or knew of, only very few names on the list were unheard of. Her fingertips tingled with the excitement of causing such a mass chaos in the prison, even if it meant her own demise. The fact that even just a few escapes over the years lead already to such drama within the Death Eater ranks, then having a full scale escape would lead to a much more severe punishment for the prison administrators. Severus Snape included, or at least she hoped. 

 

The thought was bittersweet, given all that she had been through with the man over the last several months. This enigma of Snape had loomed heavy over her since she came to his house and been forced into his service. He had been everything she thought he was and then none of it at all. Severus Snape had saved her from death at the hands of his own kind, not knowing who she was and not caring. He had killed a man with the flick of his wrist for lunging himself at her in the Resocialization Camp, nearly beat the Warden to death for throwing a killing curse her way. At the same time he’d allowed her to see him vulnerable, all but told her directly about his love of a possible Order of the Phoenix member, taught her, molded her...groomed her. The confusion as to his person and his motives, which he had instilled in her over this short but intense time together made her shake her head in frustration. She didn’t know what to think of the man, she didn’t know if she should care. It would all be over soon, she would take a great setback to her plans of escape to Scotland and turn it into something so much more than she could have ever hoped for, ‘ _ A chance to start a rebellion.’  _

 

She was so caught up in her thoughts that it almost completely passed her by that something was off in the house today. Hermione noticed there were more things going on than usual, as she was hurrying about her normal chores. There was a nervous energy about the staff, a chatter that she couldn’t quite place - the ballroom was being done up as well. Hermione didn’t like deviation from the norm, not in this setting. Snape’s house ran like clockwork, as a well oiled machine with everybody doing their jobs in the same tackt. So to see people rushing around, hurting and causing some commotion put Hermione on edge.

 

Out of luck she happened to cross paths with Maddie, “What’s going on?” she asked the matron.

 

The older lady was in a tizzy for sure, red faced and sweaty, “Oh dear no time to talk. The Dark Lord is coming today.”

 

Hermione had to strain in order to not have her eyes bug out of her head. “Why wasn’t I told?”

 

“Well I was only told two days ago, so don’t feel too put out dear. You aren't responsible for the whole house. Oh and go see the Master, he’s been looking for you.” With a puff of frustration and a pat on the shoulder the older woman excused herself to run into the ballroom in order to inspect it. 

 

Before her emotions could betray her, Hermione stole away in a broom closet and locked the door behind her. There she dropped to the floor, trembling uncontrollably. She’d feared the Dark Lord since she had first heard his name as a student at Hogwarts, he had since reeked such a devastation in the wizarding world and to Muggle-borns that her hatred for him was unfathomable. He would be here, tonight. The words of Maddie rang through her head as she held herself on the floor on all fours, doing her best not to vomit. 

 

_ ‘Steady yourself.’ _ she repeated, in an almost vain attempt to calm the sleeping beast inside of her.  _ ‘Why hasn’t he told me of this before? Why leave it till now?’  _ she sat back on her heels and put a hand on her forehead. There was no way she could mobilize herself quickly enough to orchestrate the escape from the prison this afternoon, but perhaps tomorrow. Hermione’s head was swimming with the possibilities and recalculations she would need to do in order to execute her plan to her satisfaction and it was overwhelming. Balling up her fists she hit the wall and yelled. After a few moments she rose to her feet, fixed her uniform, wiped the sweat from her brow and made her way up to her Master’s chambers. 

 

It would be the first time they had spoken since the ‘incident’ three weeks ago. Initially she thought he had been avoiding her, but as she woke up, worked and fell into bed every night exhausted, she realized that he had also been more busy and she. Come to think of it, when she had caught a random glimpse of him he had been dark and brooding, more so than usual. She couldn’t afford an assault on her mind today and hoped that he had other things on his mind than raping her thoughts.

 

She opened the door to his private chambers to see him at his desk admiring the photo of ‘her’ as he so often did. Though this time he did not make an attempt to hide it immediately or stuff it into the pocket of his waistcoat. He held it in the air a while longer before putting it face down on the desk and walking to her.

 

“You called Master.” She offered, looking down at the floor for good measure.

 

“Indeed I did.” He began, coming uncomfortably close to her. “You will not be going to the camp today, instead you will stay here and prepare me for our guest.”

 

“Yes Master.” That had already sealed the fact that she would not launch an escape today.

 

“The Dark Lord will be visiting us tonight, so I will need to have my best robes prepared and perfect. Is that understood?” 

 

She could feel herself getting nervous, moving her fingers ever so slightly. 

 

“You will prepare my robes, dress me for tonight’s events, then go to your room and lock the door. Is that clear?” His voice got lower, more foreboding.

 

Confused she turned to look him in the eye.

 

“You will not open the door until the morning, when I come calling at 6am. At that point you will accompany us to the camp, where your work will be displayed for the Dark Lord himself.” There was something predatory in his gaze, it made her skin crawl. Hermione did her best not to show it.

 

“Yes Master I understand.”  She couldn’t place it, but something had spooked him. There was no doubt in Hermione’s mind that a revel would happen at the manor tonight, otherwise he would not have asked her to lock her door. She had studied enough of Death Eater culture in her previous life to put the pieces together. Though if they could not get Muggles to defile, they might go for Snape’s staff, perhaps half-bloods. The Death Eaters were vultures afterall, a way of life destined for self implosion.

 

“Then get to it.” He spat the words out as individual orders and she hurried herself to his dresser. In so doing Hermione threw a backward glance toward his desk, the picture was still there where he had left it. Certainly he wouldn’t wear it to such an event as the revel that would happen tonight. She’d have a chance to snatch it then, to see who his mystery woman was once and for all.  If she was indeed an Order member it would deepen the mystery of Severus Snape more than she could fathom. 

 

\---

 

It was a rare occasion that Hermione Granger was required to dress her Master from head to toe. She was not sure if it was meant to be a reward or a punishment, given the forced intimacy of the situation. What she did know, was that it provided her with an insight into the man that few had, and that it was the only intimate human contact she had experienced in a long time. It was shocking to her how much she craved the touch of another, no matter who that person might be to her. Touching another person tenderly, even that of her enemy reminded her that she still existed in this crazy dark world. It gave her hope that, someday, she would reconnect with people despite all the evil done to her and her kind.

 

As she stared at Snape’s naked body standing front a three paned mirror, Hermione became acutely aware of the evil that had been done to him too. His white skin was striking, beautiful even. The scars that littered his body however, told of pain, anguish and unspeakable horror. The most distinct were those left by the Cruciatus curse, like bolts of pale lightening covering his body. There were layers upon layers of these scars, criss crossing each other in an attempt to leave no bit of his normal skin exposed. The pain he must have suffered was more than Hermione dared to think about. There were other scars on his body as well, some you could only see up close. The task he had given her of rubbing spice scented oil over the entirety of his body had afforded her this intimate look at him. The smaller scars told of torture with nails, pins, pokers things Hermione did not want to imagine. Larger scars told of knives, fights with various objects, things the Dark Lord considered fun and entertaining leaving these dark imprints of a lifetime of abuse and torture for all who were attuned to it to see. 

 

_ ‘How many times have you fought for supremacy and won?’ _ Hermione wondered to herself as she smoothed her hands over his body.

 

Despite everything she wanted to feel, everything she had forced herself to feel, Hermione Granger could not help but be sorry for the man who stood in front of her. This stoic man, who stared straight ahead as if she were not there, as if in a trance. He was an old lion, who had protected his supremacy over his pride for ages and was showing signs of decline. The weariness of age, mixed with the slow and subtle breaking of will. She slid him into his trousers, fixed his white shirt with his emerald cufflinks, and couldn’t shake the feeling, as she buttoned the many buttons on his waist coat up to his neck that she was preparing him for war. Suiting him up in a wollen victorian armor that would afford him no protection against the horrors that would await him at the revel tonight. The final piece of his dress, a green ribbon to tie back his long hair in a formal style. It was difficult for her to suppress this pressure in her nasal cavity, this feeling that came when you were trying as hard as possible to fight tears from springing forth. 

 

Finished, she took a step back from him, placing her hands in front of her and observing him in the mirror. For as much as she hated to admit it, he was an attractive man. He held a sense of pride and class that few wizards had. He observed her work in his normal quiet, critical way before affirming that she had done her job well.

 

“Come with me to the ballroom, then go to your room. No deviations from the normal route, just go there and lock the door.” She looked down at the floor and nodded, still confused as to why he would take her well being so seriously.

 

Her heart beat wildly as they made their way through the large manor house. Her chest tightened as she heard the laughing of Death Eaters in the room in front of them. She saw her Master inhale deeply, then push the doors open, not even throwing her a second glance. Hermione swallowed hard, letting the churning in her stomach subside before making her way back. There would be one minor deviation from the plan, she would quickly stop by his office, to see the picture of the woman he had so coveted all this time.

 

* * *

 

Severus Snape knelt before the Dark Lord knowing that he was being punished for his last several months of administrative lapse in Camp 5. He was covered in blood, clutching his left side in desperate need of attending to the bleeding before he passed out. The broken ribs and fingers he would deal with later, but the gash in his side he would need to get under control once the demon gave him leave. He had never been asked to fight so long and so hard for the enjoyment of his Death Eater brothers before, it had been against beasts, other wizards, muggles all had been vanquished under his skillful hands. As everything with the Dark Lord it had a cost, he had upset his Master, the political tide was turning against him and yet he would not just lay down and die. 

 

“Get out of my sight Severusss.” The demon hissed, shewing him with an idol hand. 

 

Severus shot a look at at Wormgood, who was still showing signs of the injuries he had inflicted on him three weeks before, and smiled. Going and crying to Dark Lord would earn him nothing but the ire of his own brothers in the end, he would perish because of a stupid misstep. Severus then carried himself off to the side of the room, on a small couch and began to attend to himself with potions and incantations. He was black and blue, his white shirt stained red and pink with the blood of his enemies and his own, he leaned his head back on the couch. The worst of the night was over, in a manner of speaking, the main attraction finished. Now it would just be the rape and party part of the evening, with a healthy dose of alcohol he would be able to block out everything he needed to in order to survive it. 

 

The unmistakable sounds of jeering and whistling from his so called brothers, indicated the women and boys were being brought out. Severus kept his head leaned back on the sofa and his eyes shut a moment, not caring what was coming through the door or what he would be left with in the end. There was always a struggle in the beginning to get the choicest victims to ravage, the slimmer pickings left to those who were not fast or strong. But he didn’t care, not tonight anyway. It would all be over soon, this night, his life...his plan for revenge, everything.

 

Then a yell escaped the mouths of one of the girls and it sent him back to the border crossing several months ago. To when he had turned his head and investigated the exact same sound further, because it sounded like ‘Her.’ Squeezing his eyes shut just a moment longer, he then opened them, lifting his heavy head from the back of the couch toward the sorry souls who would serve as tonight’s amusement. 

 

_ ‘Oh fucking Merlin, fuck!’ _ he raged, seeing his chambermaid, Erica, amongst the lambs lead to slaughter.

 

_ ‘I told her to go to her room, I told her to lock her door.’  _ He angrily wiped his fingers across his chin and flexed the broken fingers on his other hand, knowing that to rebreak them now would cause them permanent damage. If she died here, tonight, it would ruin everything he had worked so hard for. It would destroy his plans, his impending death would be for nothing. ‘Her’ legacy destroyed. There was no way he could let that happen, even if it meant giving everything tonight so that she would live. 

 

Severus breathed deeply in order to calm his raging temper. But his injuries were severe enough that he would need to medicate himself further.  This consisted of taking a huge swig of firewhisky and harnessing the pure adrenaline that ran through his body. He eyed his brothers, trying to determine who would go for her first and seeing that McNair and Wormgood were both taking a long look. His eyes then turned to Erica, she had a split lip and a black patch was forming around her eye. She’d fought back, no big surprise there and she was the only one not crying and begging for their life. 

 

_ ‘Stupid girl.’ _ He said to himself, admonishing her silently. 

 

There was a short silence, where everything seemed to move in slow motion, then they were off running like rabid beasts toward their prey. Severus was slower than normal, due to his injuries, so McNair got to Erica first, grabbing her by the neck and pulling her toward him. Severus kicked the wizard in the stomach, forcing him to loosen his grip on his chambermaid and focus his attentions on him. 

 

“Sectumsempra” Severus yelled, pointing his wand at his opponent. Blood began to ooze from McNair’s body.

 

Severus took this moment to punch his opponent in the face, feeling the further crunch of his already painfully broken fingers. The man fell to the floor, his wand sliding out of reach. Severus pointed his wand at the man’s throat.

 

“Yield brother.” 

 

McNair nodded and scuttled away, in search of whatever he could find that was left of the evening delights.

 

Severus then turned toward where he had left Erica, to find that Wormgood had the girl by the wrist. As Severus made his way toward her he watched her rear her fist back and punch the fat man right in his broken nose. Wormgood let out a scream and both hands flew to his face. By then Severus was able to stand between them, his head cocked to the side his lips contorted into a sneer that could kill. The blonde man squeaked and ran off, not wanting to relive another beating at the hands of Severus Snape. 

 

Throwing a sideways glance at Erica he grabbed the girl by the wrist and dragged her to his couch, flinging her there with authority. He then turned around to see if any more of his brothers would challenge him that night. He was breathing hard, heaving with anger, adrenaline and testosterone. Seeing that all of the hyenas were beginning to feast on their prey, he turned to his chambermaid. She was not afraid, her big brown eyes looking up at him in sadness and confusion, but not in fear. He must be quite a sight to behold, beaten, bloody and wild. He bent over her, straddling her on the couch and took her jaw in his hand. 

 

“You know what I have to do now.” He breathed, eyeing her with both anger and interest.

 

She nodded. 

 

He wanted to slap her, scream at her, push her against the wall and berate her for how stupid she had been. He wanted to beat her within an inch of her life, for how she had put all of his plans at risk. EVERYTHING he had done for ‘Her’, his Hermione, for the love of a woman had been put in jeopardy tonight. Everything. And yet...her calm eyes soothed him, quieted the fury inside. They made him think of Hermione, made him remember who he was and what he was fighting so hard for.

 

Severus leaned closer, speaking into her ear, “Pretend I’m anybody, pretend I’m anybody else but me.”

 

He could feel her nod. 

 

“Just keep your eyes closed. Whatever you do, whatever you hear, do not open your eyes.” When he pulled back her face was full of questions, ones he would not answer now. 

 

She closed her eyes and he ripped open the front of her uniform, the sound of the fabric sharp against the background of human suffering. He continued ripping the fabric until he made his way to her skirt pulling it off quickly. With a hand on her shoulder, pressing most of his weight on her he surveyed his prey inhaling her scent and feeling her warmth. She could be any woman at the moment, any at all -- but what she was to him was so much more complicated.

 

He flipped her over, putting her on her hands and knees, not able to look at her face. His mind was playing tricks on him, his delirium and loss of blood making him see things that weren't there. All he could see was Hermione’s face, Hermione’s breasts….her face overlaid with Erica’s, Erica’s face overlaid with Hermione’s. He gripped her panties and pulled them down over her thighs, she has such a sweet little ass and cunt, he hardened instantly at the sight and smell of it. 

 

_ ‘I am such a bastard. _ ’ He thought to himself as he lowered his pants, wetted the tip of his cock with her juices and teased himself. The sounds of people screaming in pain, fear and death were all around them as he sheathed himself completely inside Erica. She let out a gasp, tightening her already tiny entrance around him firmly. 

 

For as much as he loathed himself at this very moment, he couldn’t deny how good it felt to be close to her. Her skin was soft to the touch, her sweet soft warmth inviting him to pump his hips into her more. She was trembling at his continued strokes and Severus couldn’t be sure if it was from pain or pleasure. Though the former seemed more likely than the latter. But that didn’t matter now anyway, he had to keep up appearances. So he continued, undeterred by her tiny gasps and trembles. She was so wet now, coating his cock in a layer of thick warm lubrication that smelled so intoxicating, he could trick himself into believing she wanted him. He knew better, knew the body did what the body needed to do to procreate, to carry on the human race. 

 

He leaned over, checking to see if her eyes were still closed. He didn’t want her to see the horrors unfolding in the room around them. Luckily her eyes were still closed tightly, tears streaming down them. Severus couldn’t blame her, the horrific screams of rape filled the air, mixed with the gurgling sounds of people dying or pleading for their lives. You’d have to be a special kind of sick and twisted individual to get off on that…’ _ or not even register it.’  _ He thought to himself. Severus shook his head, focusing on the rythmic sound of their coupling, that wet intense slapping that would eventually bring him to orgasim. The sooner he finished the sooner they could slip out of the ballroom, unnoticed. He placed both hands on her hips now, bringing her firmly back to him with the knowledge that their collective agony would soon end. He could feel it, that deep pull in his groin, that flutter in his stomach, his cock harden further … then release the shuttering, all encompassing silence and peace that comes with sexual release. 

 

His heart was pounding and he was breathing harder than he normally would. He looked down to see her ass and back smattered with blood, the repair work he had done to his heavily injured left side was coming undone. He stuck the fingers of both his hands inside it, trying to stop the bleeding as he pulled out of Erica, sitting back on his heels on the couch where he had so wronged her. Severus couldn’t fight the pain, he was doubling over, blood flowing through his fingers and out of his body. His breathing became more labored, ‘ _ I’m going to die here.’  _ was the only thought that came to his mind. 

 

It was only then, as the situation had reached its most desperate, that he felt an arm wrap around him, bringing him to his feet and pushing him in the direction of the side exit to the ballroom. 

 

“Huh?” Was the only thing he could utter as she saw Erica’s tiny naked body supporting his weight, pushing him with urgency toward freedom. 

 

She was completely silent, nobody noticing what was going on. They slipped through the exit door, making their way as fast as possible up the stairs of the manor house and to his private chambers. Severus’ vision was getting splotchy as they progressed through the hall, a neat trail of blood marking their path behind them. He wasn’t sure he was going to make, didn’t know what she was going to do. He’d lost track of where they were by now, could only look at the floor and slump over more, placing more weight on his surprisingly strong chambermaid. Then at some point there was nothing, the world was black, black and so surprisingly painless.

 

* * *

 

All Hermione could do was wait for a miracle, as she knelt by the body of her former Potions Master. Whatever had possessed her to drag him away from the revel, prop him up on the floor against his bed and see to it that he didn’t expire from loss of blood she could not say. Only that she owed him one, despite her hatred and overall distaste for the man, she owed him a bit of humanity in a world that had none. The picture on his desk was gone, probably hidden by a cloaking charm. Her whole reason for ending up on the receiving end of his manhood, vanished into thin air. 

 

She exhaled deeply, fingering the buttons of a white shirt she had pilfered from his wardrobe. Her hair had grown longer than she normally would have wanted it, with small curly tufts forming. This combined with all that had happened tonight, made her twitch with nervousness. He’d been injured severely, so much so that had she not done what she did when she did, he would have most certainly died. That had been the point of tonight afterall, she suspected. It was to punish him, yet he had lived. That was perhaps a punishment in and of itself, but Hermione could not bring herself to watch him die. Not like that. Not after what he had done for her.

 

Snape stirred then, coming back to consciousness as the blood replenishing potion she had given him had started to kick in. She pulled herself to him on her knees, straddling his outstretched legs, with his pants and underwear still settled precariously at his thighs. He was the absolute picture of near death, a semi healed wound on his left side, his shirt opened revealing his blood stained skin. His sable black hair was stuck with patches of blood and sweat either together or to different parts of his face. He looked like hell. He looked like a man who would have welcomed death, but had not had the luck to catch it. Still straddling his legs she brought her face to his, a hand on his cheek. 

 

With great difficulty he raised a hand to her head, clasping her short hair and her head in his hand and looked at her. It was a look that tore her soul in two, so sad, so desperate, so lost,  _ ‘This is so fucked up!’  _ her mind raged. She should feel nothing for this man but hate, nothing but joy at his demise. But she did not. Instead Hermione kissed him long and deep, because it was the only real thing that felt right. There was only a slight response from his own lips, she didn’t know whether he lacked the strength or the will to return her tenderness. 

 

When she pulled away she could see tears making trails through the smattering of blood on his face. Washing it away in tiny streaks one little bit at a time. She moved her face forward to kiss him again.

 

“No.” He said as she neared. “No, no. Please.”

 

She paid him no mind, kissing him firmer now and feeling his fingers grip her hair more firmly. Her hand went between them, gripping the beginnings of an erection. As she brought her head back again, she saw his lips start to move in protest. Placing a finger over his lips she whispered, “Just pretend I’m anybody. Anybody else but me.”

 

At these words what had begun as a trickle of tears from Severus Snape’s eyes, turned to torrents of tears rolling down his face. She smiled weakly, not knowing what he was thinking, knowing only that he hurt like she hurt. That he needed what she needed. She raised herself up slightly, placing his manhood at her entrance and began to impale herself upon him. He brought his other hand to her, gripping her body close, keeping her head next to his own. 

 

_ ‘What kind of a fucked up world is this?’  _ Was the only thought that really stood out in Hermione’s mind. He had been the only man she could think of during the revel when he had instructed her to imagine him as an old lover. She couldn’t think of anybody else then nor could she think of anybody else now.  _ ‘Am I so deprived of human contact that I would choose my enemy over the thought of never having human contact again? _ ’ There was such a thin line between desire and hatred, Hermione wondered at which level of the scale this thing was that she was doing. 

 

It just felt so good, feeling another human being inside of you. Snape was thick and long, he filled her to full completion. Some people needed only a pinch to know if they were real, a kick in the pants to make sure they were human. But she needed so much more than that. She’d spent so much time on survival, revenge and hating everything, that this, this was confirmation to her that she still had the capacity to feel human emotions. Despite all the things thrown at her, that she could process human thoughts and do human things...that she wasn’t a monster. And after what she had witnessed tonight, he was not a monster either. He was made one by the Dark Lord.

 

He smelled so sweet through the blood and sweat that covered his body. Hermione could feel Severus moving his hips to her now, responding to the best he could given his condition. She wondered only briefly if he was imagining her as the woman  in his picture, or if he’d reached the conclusion that it didn’t matter now? She was close now, her hips moving erratically, her body yearning for a proper release. She could feel he was close too, so close they might both go over the edge at the same time. His body jerked, his fingers tightened in her hair and she came deep and throaty, long and with force. Hermione felt the aftershocks going through his body, releasing his seed as deep as he could inside her body. She rested her head on his shoulder for several minutes, enjoying what she could.

 

“We’ll almost certainly both be dead by this time tomorrow.” She whispered in his ear, only now pulling back from her hunched position over him. 

 

Severus let a finger linger on her cheek, then smiled. She’d never seen him smile before, it gave her an odd sense of intimacy that even sex had not provided. 

 

“Yes.” He responded, “But we still have one important thing left to do.”

 

Hermione cocked her head to the side, not entirely sure what he meant. Surly he didn’t have the same idea for tomorrow as she did? There was an awkward silence between them, one that would never be answered to her satisfaction.

 

“Now go to bed.” He whispered to her, “We have an inspection of the Camp in the morning.”


	7. For the Love of My Master

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione knows the day of reckoning is here.

**Chapter 7: For the Love of My Master**

 

Despite the seriousness of the situation and the magnitude of the day ahead of her, Hermione had slept well that night. It was perhaps the best sleep she had enjoyed in a long time. She had woken up early, combed her hair and dressed herself accordingly. Hermione had smoothed out her uniform, her grey skirt held not one wrinkle, her white shirt was crisp and her cloak had not one stray thread. It was difficult to describe the feelings that had taken hold of her this morning, they gave her an overwhelming sense of calm, accentuated by a tension that had concentrated itself in the pit of her stomach. She sat on the edge of her bed, her posture upright, her hands placed gently in her lap, waiting. 

 

Waiting was a torture, the likes of which she had not experienced. While loneliness and isolation were feelings Hermione was used to, this was a completely different beast all together. There was a strength to it, the satisfaction of knowing that she was going to do something about this hand she had been dealt. Success would mean a new chance at resistance, a renewed struggle for what was right in the world. Failure would only mean death, by now death had no hold on her. Her entire life, her education her training had lead her to this point. She would not back down, she would not surrender, she would see it through to the end - no matter the consequences.

 

_ ‘For Harry, for Ron...for me.’ _ This was her mantra as she waited in her room for her Master to appear.

 

He swooped in unannounced of course, preoccupied with the same kinds of feelings she was experiencing. Hermione had lived in the house long enough, been in close enough proximity to him to read his moods. She’d never seen him scared before, the nervousness rolling off him as he observed her briefly. There was no need for him to make a motion that she follow him, it was implied as he stiffly turned around and walked out the door, leaving it wide open. Hermione followed close behind him, the silly notion that being closer to him might shield her from the darkness they were about to encounter. 

 

The house was unnaturally quiet, even for this time of the morning. The staff had clearly been frightened by the events of the night before. Hermione exhaled lightly at this thought, the thought of the fear they must be experiencing having seen the Dark Lord for the first time and experiencing first hand how he treated his servants. If that didn’t turn them against the Dark Lord, then nothing would. 

 

_ ‘Will they rise up when the time comes?’ _ Hermione wondered to herself as she followed her Master down the stairs of the manor house and toward the front door.

 

There would be no apparition today it seemed, they were going to take the long way. Severus Snape motioned her to get into the carriage, picking up his robes and following her in. There was a sense of dejavu that swept over Hermione, having been in this very carriage with him several times before. Several months ago, when she first came to his household, she had been so weak, so sick. It was hard for Hermione to even remember how she had been, hairless, skin and bones with various diseases. The dark man before her and brought her back from the edge of death, dragged her back into this world kicking and screaming. He’d given her something to fight for. 

 

She looked at Severus Snape, seated across from her. Whatever nervousness she had detected in her own chambers a few moments earlier had melted away, his demeanor calm, his face a mask of indifference. He was not observing her as he normally did when they sat in the claustrophobic carriage. He was looking out the window, his eyes distant, his mind somewhere else. 

 

_ ‘Is he thinking of ‘Her’?’ _ Hermione wondered.

 

Considering how close to death he had been last night, Hermione was surprised to see him show no signs of it now. He was sitting upright, his hands in his lap, his head turned toward the window of carriage. If the brutality of last evening’s festivities had been any indication of how today would go, it was clear to Hermione that this was Severus Snape’s death march. He was a dead man walking, waiting for the wrath of the Dark Lord to lead him to his ultimate fate. 

 

_ ‘Will he stand up and fight as I plan to do?’  _ This thought and the revelations that followed it made Hermione shiver. Last night had been an unequivocally bizarre moment for both of them. Pain, suffering, hatred and the need to feel alive bringing them together. While they may have reasons to fight Lord Voldemort, they were not the same motivations. She could not forget he had double crossed the Order, watched as her friends swung from the gallows, ensured the torture and destruction of numerous lives through the Resocialization Camps. 

 

_ ‘You reap what you sow.’ _ She reminded herself, and despite the kindness Severus Snape had shown her over the last several months, he had been responsible for more pain and suffering than she could ever know. The woman in the picture notwithstanding, he was a brutal man only able to serve his own interests. 

 

_ ‘He’s a Death Eater, he’s the enemy, he does not deserve my empathy.’  _

 

The trip to the camp seemed shorter than usual. The Dark Lord was already there, his entourage standing menacingly around him. She could see Wormgood there as well, some of his men from the prison flanking him as he stood near the Dark Lord. It was clear to Hermione that the Dark Lord had taken the fat blonde man’s side. Whether her Master had intended for the escapes or not, the records did not stand in his favor. He had not done his job and would now pay the price. Meaning she would also pay the price by association. She knew how the Dark Lord worked.

 

The carriage came to an abrupt stop, the knot in Hermione’s stomach lurching forward as the carriage door was opened. She would have to be calm, she would need to dig deep and have strength.

 

“My Lord.” Severus said, immediately dropping to one knee before the creature. Hermione followed suit. 

 

The Dark Lord smiled eerly as he put his hand on her Master’s shoulder, “Severuss my child come, we have much to do today”

 

She glared at Wormgood, pleased to see the bruising on his nose from her attack last night was still visible. The man quickly shifted his eyes and pressed on behind the Dark Lord. ‘ _ Coword.’ _

 

As they began their tour of the camp Hermione was glad to blend into the background. She was anonymous, able to watch what was going on in a detached manner. There was a tension in the group as Severus and his loyal men showed Voldemort through the holding cells. Hermione could see Wormgood’s men smiling to each other as if they knew something the rest of them did not. As if they were celebrating before the party had actually started. Hermione clutched her wand close to her body, the feeling that she and Snape were about to be jumped foremost in her mind. 

 

As they walked through the different sections of the prison, Hermione repeated to herself what she needed to do there and in which order. It was a like a kind of pop quiz right before the test. She knew that Neville Longbottom was still alive and in the isolation chambers. Cell 2523 was his, and from what she had read he was angry and dangerous. He would be one of the first she let go. She would need him to get the wands, the wards would require the power of two. 

 

They walked through the children’s section of the prison, Hermione knew they would be last. Considering the amount of guards in the prison, the increased amount of Death Eaters and the Dark Lord, she would need to release the fighters first and leave the little ones for last. She couldn’t lead them to slaughter.  

 

Her thoughts were disturbed by their abrupt turn toward the main office of camp. They had cut their tour short in favor of looking over the books. So they turned, walked up the filthy stairs and made their way to the small main office. 

 

Severus put his hand on her shoulder, stopping her in her tracks. “Stay here.” He whispered. She tried to capture his eyes with hers for a moment, but caught a passing glance of him moving forward, toward the center of the tiny room.

 

She was in the office, crammed in there with some of Severus’ men, some of Wormgood’s, the Dark Lord, his supporters - there were so many people stuffed into such a small place that it was almost impossible to breath. Her Master had stopped her close to the door, the only exit from the room. There were no windows, no second doors, just the one right behind her. 

 

The scene was surreal, the men were gravitating toward the center of the room, as if Master Snape and the Dark Lord were the center of the universe, threatening a gravitational collision of massive proportions. The men were so eager to get closer, they had blocked her view, darkening the room, leaving only a light in the middle to illuminate anything. Hermione shuffled slightly, able to get a line of sight to her Master’s face as the conversation was taking place. She strained to hear what they were discussion in harsh tones. The men’s bodies absorbing the sound as they continued to push toward the center. The tension in the room made her body shake, pushed adrenaline through her veins and made her acutely aware of what was about to happen. 

 

_ ‘I have to do it in the right moment.’ _ She tried to tell herself in a calming way. They were so close now to how it was going to end.

 

Then her Master’s eyes turned to hers, as if he had been tracking her movement the entire time. His voice was deep, clam, it belied the seriousness of what was about to happen. “Erica,  _ RUN. _ ”

 

That was all she needed to grab the door knob behind her, back out of the room and push it tight, wards, curses and all the sealing chams she knew coming out of her mouth at lightning speed. It did not deaden the screams, yells, death cries and sounds of curses that came from the room. 

 

Hermione took a step back from the door and caught her breath.  _ ‘Neville.’ _ His name was the only thought she was capable of. Not able to process all that had just happened, not having the time to. She needed to act, and act fast. Having been in charge of the books at the prison for the last few weeks the guards were used to seeing her. 

 

_ ‘Act cool.’ _ She told herself as she put her arms down to her side, inhaled deeply, and began to walk as quickly as she could, without drawing attention, to the isolation chambers. 

 

She knew the way well. She had memorized it from the maps of the prison, every twist and turn expected. Nodding to the guards, she made her way past a few knowing that her actions would eventually draw their attention. There was only one guard in the hall where Neville was being held. Hermione made quick work of him. With a flick of her wrist his wand came flying to her, with a second flick of her wrist his neck twisted around, broken. He fell to the ground in a heap before she could even walk past him.

 

_ ‘2523’ _ she found it. Rolling on the tips of her toes, Hermione looked in the glass window. Neville was there alright, bald, worn, tattered, close to death and mad as hell. She could see it in the way he looked at her as he heard her approach the glass. His eyes changed when he realized she was not a guard, but a girl.

 

A wave of her wand opened the door, she put her hand out in front of her, signaling she did not mean to hurt him. Neville looked at her, his head cocked to the side as if he were trying to remember who she was and assessing her threat level. It was clear he’d been tortured beyond anything she could possibly imagine. Pain and sorrow radiated off him as she neared her old friend. 

 

“It’s me Neville. It’s Hermione.” She could see it register on his face. “We have to get everybody out of here, we need to get everybody north to Scotland. Do you understand?” She held out the wand she had won from the guard to her friend.

 

A ghost of his former self, Neville simply nodded, grabbed the wand and ran through the door. Despite his diminished appearance,  he was a juggernaut killing all guards in his path, clearing out the floor of those who would do them harm. 

 

“Neville!” Hermione yelled, “The wands, we need to secure the wands, then we can release everybody.”

 

A grunt came from his mouth, which seemed to be an affirmative as she showed him the way to the wands. They scaled the stairs two to three at a time running up to the storage room. It was warded to the nines, but Hermione had educated herself on what the wards were and how to overcome them. 

 

“Keep your wand concentrated on this portion of the door.” She instructed her companion. Holding his eyes while he assessed whether he could trust her or not. After a few moments he nodded, pointing his wand at the door and using a stasis spell to keep it in place. 

 

She needed him to keep the spell in place, if she screwed up the order of the wards the explosions would set off other ones, killing them before their escape truly began. She could hear commotion in the background, she knew that the carnage in the office she had escaped from, had bled into the prison. Alerting the guards and ruining their element of surprise. Hermione took a deep breath and concentrated on the wards she knew were in place. Waving her hands, she moved the wand from side to side, keeping her mind focused on the order. 

 

Hermione whispered the words needed to open the door, feeling the wards lift one by one. It was hard to suppress her excitement as the final security measure fell, the door opening a crack. She and Neville looked at one another in astonishment, their eyes wide. Motioning her to step away, Neville used a toe to open the door further, ready to strike should something further attack them. 

 

Nothing.

 

“Go.” Hermione said to him. “Go to levels two and three, release them all. Save the basement for last, those are the kids.”

 

He smiled for the first time in her direction. “Don’t leave anybody alive.” She said to his back as he ran down the hallway, determined to wreak as much havoc on the prison as humanly possible.

 

It was working, she was doing it. The happiness Hermione felt overshadowed any fear or  hesitation. Now, more than ever, she would have to stick to the plan. She would need to go behind Neville, make sure nobody was left behind. Or at least, confirm they would not be able to make it to freedom. 

 

The chaotic screams, the sounds of hexes flying were like music to her ears. She dropped her cloak, which bore the mark of her Master Severus Snape. She held her wand drawn by her side and walked, casually, through the once terrifying halls of Resocialization Camp 5. Doors were open, the lights were flickering and the walls were streaked with blood. Hermione took in the smells of blood, fear and triumph. She ran her left hand through her short, slowly curling hair, and shed Erica Simmons from her person. 

 

A sound behind her made her turn, wand raised. A guard was dragging himself along the floor, trying to take cover. She delivered a hex to his face, giving him a quick and painless death. She would not back down, she would show no remorse, she would not leave this camp until everybody who could escape did.

 

She followed the sounds of fighting, the fog of war as it moved throughout the camp. The guards might have been mean and harsh, but they were completely outnumbered by the prisoners. If Neville had succeeded in releasing them, which seemed to be the case, they almost stood no chance against them. Some of her comrades had fallen, Hermione knelt beside their bodies, checking for a pulse. When she found none, she closed their eyes and carried on. When she found something, she got them back on their feet, told them to run. Knowing that the violence would spread from the middle, from the point where it had began, Hermione made her way back to the office. 

 

It was unlikely that anybody had lived, those who had, were surly either dying or long gone. But she couldn’t quell her curiosity as to what had happened in the room. She had sealed her Master’s fate then, condemned him to death. Somehow this thought unsettled her, though she had vowed not to pay heed to these feelings. 

 

_ ‘Yet…’ _ she said to herself.

 

A force, not her own, compelled Hermione Granger to go back to the room she had left him. Somehow she knew she needed to see her Master once more, she needed to know his fate. There was no way to dress it up differently or lie to herself, in some inexplicable way she cared for him. 

 

The smell of burnt flesh and entrails greeted her as she turned the corner to the office. The door had been blown off its hinges, lying haphazardly in the hallway. Hermione paused and listened. She heard nothing. Gingerly she stepped over the door, wand at the ready. There was an eery silence that had fallen over this place. She bent over slightly then squinted, as if it would make her vision better. Her left hand on the door frame, her wand in the right, she peered inside the office. 

 

There were dead people everywhere. Most of them were unrecognizable as they had either been reduced to simple parts or their faces just didn’t exist anymore. She searched the room, the blood staining her shoes, penetrating the leather, her stomach threatening to wretch at the sight. Wormgood was dead, and she spit on his corpse. She had been suppressing her emotions for so long, it felt good to just let it all out. Her eyes swept the room, in search of Severus Snape. 

 

The Dark Lord was not there, but neither was her Master. Not a body bore his clothing, not a recognizable face his. Her eyes darted around the room looking for something to tip her off to the the whereabouts of her Master. She couldn’t keep thinking of him as that, even though her servitude had clearly ended. 

 

_ ‘There.’ _ She noticed dragging marks through the blood. They lead through the door and off to the right.  

 

She followed the blood down a dark hallway. It wasn’t the safest thing she could be doing, but she was compelled to do so. Her heart was racing, her feet carrying her faster and faster in pursuit of an unknown thing. It was labored breathing and a moan that turned her head toward a dark heap on the floor. 

 

“Master?” she squeaked. Something in her moved, something inside her fought against all the things her mind had told her. All the reasoning she had built up to hate him, to leave him, to get back at him for all he had done, vanished. Her heart took over, made her rush to his side, tears in her eyes. 

 

She was on her knees, pulling his head onto them, turning his face toward hers. Blood was coming out of his mouth, his face was wretched with pain. “Come now Master, I’ll get you out of here.” 

 

She was crying now, uncontrollable crying over him. He raised a finger to her face, not able to respond to her. Looking at his injuries, his organs exposed and only barely kept inside his body, the amount of blood he had lost, she knew deep down he wouldn’t make it. That he was beyond her help, beyond anybody’s help. 

 

He had that bloody picture in his hand though, turned face down at his side, his eyes focused on hers. She didn’t know what to say, so she held him and stared into his eyes pleading to any god that would listen for help. 

 

Then she felt him enter her mind, his dark eyes penetrating her brown ones. There was no reason to deny who she was anymore, no reason to cover up her true person as she had a few weeks before. Hermione felt him race through her mind, starting with the most recent memories she had and pushing back further, to her time with the Order to her training with him in Occlumency then...

 

She felt him fading, her eyes focusing on the dying man in front of her. There was something in the way he looked at her, in his beautiful eyes that made her question what he was thinking. It was surprise, peace and perhaps something else. He tried to utter something but she could not make it out, she stared at his face, holding his cheek in one hand. He smiled at her then, and then he was gone. 

 

“NOOOOO!” She screamed, her tears falling like raindrops on his face. “No.” Hermione hugged his head to her body, lacing her hands in his hair and gripping him as tightly as she could. Somehow she knew, she suddenly had come to realization that this was what he had wanted all along. That he somehow had done everything in his power to bring them to this point. She couldn’t explain how she knew or why, just that he had wanted it this way. 

 

She’d lost all track of time sitting there, holding him in her arms. To the point that she almost didn’t register footsteps coming toward her. Hermione raised her wand, seeing Neville racing toward her. He was covered in blood, but it seemed not to be his own. 

 

“We have to go.” He said. “The others are out, we have to leave.”

 

But Hermione didn’t want to do. She wanted to stay with him, hold him, not let his body be desecrated. 

 

Her hesitation made Neville grab her by the shoulder and pull her toward him.

 

“Take your hands off me.” She yelled, pulling away from her friend. A fury in her voice she had not known she could muster.

 

Neville grabbed her again, “Hermione! We have to go now! Right now!” He tried to restrain her but she fell toward the body of her fallen Master, snatching the photo from his hand and turning it so she could see it.

 

All she could do was put her hand to her mouth in shock. It was her, all this time, all these things he had done. He had done them for her!

 

The sound that escaped her mouth was so mournful, so painful that even Neville took a step back from her. She clenched the photo to her breast, her body wretched in pain and she screamed as loud as she could. She cried for the love that would never be, for a tenderness they would never know together - for a life that had been taken from them by forces not under their control. She cried because she knew, she knew that she loved him too. She knew that all she had done, that all she would ever do, would be for him. 

 

_ ‘For the love of my Master.’ _ she promised herself. 

 

She was too weak now to fight Neville’s hands as he lifted her to her feet once more and dragged her away. Her head still turned toward the man who was not only her hero, but her saviour. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this now two years ago and it still rips my heart out.


	8. Epilogue:  Clearing the Air

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione finally finds the strength within herself, to tell the world about the sacrifice of Severus Snape.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After starting this story something like 2 years ago, it's nice to have a short but (hopefully) sweet ending. He might be gone, but we will never forget him! Thanks for reading and following this story. A huge thanks to all of you for making my day!

**Epilogue:   Clearing the Air**

 

17 Years Later...

 

The winds whipped Hermione’s hair about her face, she pulled her scarf around her neck a little tighter in response. The Hebrides were beautiful this time of year, save the wind -- but it was always windy here so she had to get used to it. She had built her home on a secluded part of the islands, mostly so she could have her peace and partially because she needed to be away from everything.

 

The tea kettle whistled and she quickly ducked inside her comfortable little cottage where she had made her life after the war. It was small, functional and had just enough space for her and all of her books. Hermione had always been a bookworm, it had always been what her classmates teased her most about -- but she loved books more now than ever because they didn’t judge you. They were written words on a page, open to your interpretation. They neither had the capacity nor the will to judge you, and this put Hermione at ease. 

 

Turning to the table she quickly filled it with some cakes and other sweets. She was expecting a guest after all, someone she had not seen in a very long time. Scarlett had been born nine months after the revolution had started, so when Hermione and Neville had basically leveled Resocialization Camp 5. The combined forces of the light, lead by Minerva, had made quick work of the Dark Lord and his followers after that -- it has been a victory for the Order of the Phoenix-- one she had paid heavily for. 

 

There was a gentle pop in the sitting room and Hermione knew she had arrived. Knowing her reclusive life in the Hebrides was not fitting for a young girl, Hermione had encouraged Scarlett to stay at Hogwarts and come visit when it suited her. She wanted her to have a normal life, one without the mention of Voldemort’s name, one without living under the shadow of a reluctant war hero like herself. That was what Hermione was by all accounts, a hero -- though she had always thought a hero was supposed to win something, feel fulfilled by the victories they won. And she did not. It had also been hard for Hermione to look upon her daughter as the years went on. She favored her father greatly. Her long curly black hair, pointed nose and upright posture were so like Severus’ it had ripped Hermione’s heart in two. A part of him had survived but in so doing it lingered, a reminder to Hermione that she had failed in her duty to protect him. Part of her was also a coward, wanting to avoid any discussion about Scarlett’s father. Death Eaters had all but been obliterated from wizarding history. For all the freedoms they had fought for, speaking about Death Eaters had not been one of them. It meant her relationship with Severus was an abomination -- Scarlett’s existence illegal. 

 

But as all things in this life, this would have to change. Scarlett had been hounding Hermione for an interview with one of the war’s greatest heroes -- and Hermione had every intention of using this as a platform for another sort of rebellion. Smiling, she went to the sitting room to greet her daughter.

“You’re looking great mother!” Scarlett embraced her, already a head taller than Hermione. Another feature Severus had given her. 

 

Squeezing her daughter tightly, Hermione motioned they sit at the table. Gods she had grown, almost a woman now. Scarlett was a Ravenclaw, smart, studious and an exemplary Witch. _ ‘You would be so proud my love.’  _ Hermione thought to herself, fighting back tears. This time of year was always difficult for her, always emotional.

 

They caught up, discussing grades in school and boys. It seemed her daughter was quite popular, something neither of her parents could have been or would have wanted to be. Hermione could feel her stomach clenching, knowing that what she would tell Scarlett this day would change everything. ‘ _ Hopefully for the better.’  _

 

“So mother…” Scarlett’s quill and parchment began to float in the air as they spoke, “I’m so happy you finally, after all these years, agreed to help me with this project. As you know I’m collecting stories from the war -- real stories. So don’t hold back, I want to know every detail.”

 

Shifting uncomfortably Hermione spoke, “Well you know all about my exploits with Harry and Ron -- all are well documented I would imagine.”

 

Her daughter nodded.

 

“Less documented would be my life after they were executed. The dark times in London, where I ate rats and scrapped for every bit of my life. They were difficult times, fear ruled supreme. The Death Eaters and their sympathizers were exploiting their power, rooting out any of us who had fought on the side of the Order of the Phoenix.” Hermione had been good so far, recounting everything calmly.

 

“I was finally escaping on somebody else’s papers, so close to freedom I could see it on the other side. And then…” Hermione took a breath to steady herself, “He saved me.”

 

Scarlett cocked her head to the side, her curiosity communicated through her eyes and the scrunching up of her forehead she asked. “Who?”

 

Raising her hand, Hermione waited for an old and well hidden photo album to fy to her. Opening it, to some of the few photos that Hermione could scrounge up before everything else had been destroyed, before Severus could be destroyed forever. Pointing to the picture Hermione pushed the album over to Scarlett. 

 

Her daughter’s face turned from curiosity to shock to dismay. There could be no doubt they favored one another, no doubt they were father and daughter. Hermione leaned in, whispering though there was no need to. “Severus Snape, known Death Eater and you father.”

 

Severus had been one of the most despised Death Eaters since the revolution, a reputation he did not deserve. That had been part of the reason Hermione had withdrawn from contact with the Wizarding Community -- because they sought to silence the truth. She had fought so hard so that life would no longer be black and white, but that all shades of grey could also be accepted. What had happened after it was all said and done, after countless lives had been sacrificed was that the power had merely shifted -- in her favor but still. 

 

Scarlett flipped through the album, her mouth opened in surprise. “But he’s the most notorious Death Eater…”

 

Hermione cut her off gently, “And the father of this revolution. This story for your project won’t be about me, I’m just a footnote -- it should be about him. He is a hero. It is because of him that things have changed, that the Order won the day. And I will not see his reputation tarnished any more.” 

 

As she recounted the story of Severus Snape, it filled Hermione with joy to see her daughter so moved. To finally, after all these years, to share the tears and the burden of what had happened with another person was a huge relief. To clear his name, to finally tell his story to the students of Hogwarts and hopefully soon after that the rest of the Wizarding world. Hermione spared no detail, ensured that every painstaking moment was described so her daughter could know his struggles. His bravery. His heart.

 

Hugging Scarlett close, Hermione cried tears of joy for the first time in a long long time.  _ ‘It’s done Severus, we will fight for your name, your memory and us.’ _

 

Ever the journalistic mind, Scarlett asked one final question, “So why did you do it? Risk it all for the enemy at that time?”

 

Hermione didn’t hesitate, “I did it for love, for him -- I did it for him. And he -- he did it for me.”  Her hand reached out to touch the crinkled old photo of her that Severus carried with him. She could have sworn it felt warm, like it had been in his vest pocket -- like he was there. 

 

She would never forget him, and now neither would the rest of the world. 

 


End file.
